


It's in His Blood

by SetsunaNoroi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Also not so brotherly love, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Bottom Dean Winchester, Bottom Sam Winchester, Brotherly Love, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester Use Their Words, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester in Love, Demon Blood Addict Sam Winchester, Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, Explicit Sexual Content, False Memories, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manipulative Ruby (Supernatural), Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Past Ruby/Sam Winchester, Protective Ruby, Sam Winchester Detoxing From Demon Blood, Sam Winchester on Demon Blood, Sibling Incest, Top Dean Winchester, Top Sam Winchester, Wincest - Freeform, they switch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 58,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24022882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SetsunaNoroi/pseuds/SetsunaNoroi
Summary: Sam Wesson's home, work, and love life sucks. He'd give anything to be free of it all. Then Dean Smith walks into his life and blows him away in ways he'd never dreamed of. It would be perfect, except he seems to have picked up a crazy stalker, a woman in leather who he swears is real. All that before he remembers he's the Antichrist. Overall, not a great couple weeks at work.
Relationships: Dean Smith/Sam Wesson, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Ruby/Sam Winchester
Comments: 53
Kudos: 59





	1. Liquor is Quicker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheBitterSweetBish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBitterSweetBish/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the first time I've ever written Wincest. As a multi-shipper I've never had a problem with it and even indulged in reading a few good fics. I've never made any myself though, mostly because I've seen some fans be very vocal about their distaste for it (to put it politely) and I didn't want to put a target on my back. However, there is a writer, BitterSweetBish, who's writing I really adore and respect. Her style is completely different than mine, very short and direct chapters while I love to wax on, almost like comparing like haiku to soliloquy, and it's lovely to explore the narratives she gives with characters and emotional depth in such a concise and powerful way. She also happens to love Wincest, and is completely unashamed about that.
> 
> So I really wanted to write this for her. Bish, you completely deserve this. I hope that you enjoy it.

It was the end of the first grueling week when Sam Wesson was completely, absolutely sure that he hated his job, his life and everything in between. Forty hours in of telling people to turn their machines off and then on again, the occasional call of someone having an actual problem with their computer or something else, but over all the same drudgery over and over again had made it feel like his brain had been dipped in sludge. His cubicle felt too small for him, he stomach ached, and every little noise seemed too loud for him right now as he finished up his paperwork for the day.

Yes, he'd finished his first week at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc. Now it was only the rest of his life he had to get through.

"You look like you want to kill someone," a voice remarked behind him with a trace of a laugh in his voice. "Namely yourself."

"Ha," Sam replied without an ounce of humor as he rolled his seat around and looked up at Ian. He wasn't sure he could really regard the man as a friend. Working across from him in the tech support floor, the guy was outgoing and even a bit pushy at times, having no sense of shame at all and had no problem just pushing himself into any conversation he felt like joining. From day one he'd zeroed in on Sam and decided that they were going to become best buds.

Honestly, he wasn't sure if he should feel flattered by the obvious desire of friendship from him or wonder if everyone had already gotten sick of the guy at work. Not a single thing about him was respectable, from the way he disregarded the dress code to the eleven or so coffee breaks he took every day. Sam could only figure the guy had to be really good at his job to not have gotten fired yet. Either that or their supervisor hated the job just as much that it was all just allowed to be gotten away with. He wasn't sure quite yet.

"So, first week in the cooperate grind," Ian said, leaning against the cubicle wall. "What are your plans to celebrate?"

"Have some stuff to do," Sam admitted. Truth was, he didn't have anything to get taken care of, but he really wanted to go home despite said lack of anything to do there. He'd already unpacked everything, gotten his new life organized, such as it was. Solitude and silence must have been very inviting after listening to phone calls all week. Maybe he'd watch television or something.

"Stuff better be the nickname of a girlfriend or that was the lamest response ever, I hope you know that," Ian informed him, causing Sam to glare up at him.

"No girlfriend, not anymore," he responded before sighing. "She said she needed… space, that we could still be friends though."

"Oh, ouch. That one's always the worst," the other tech support told him in sympathy. "How much space did she need?"

"Enough to call off the wedding and kick me out of her apartment in San Francisco," he sighed out. "It was kind of rough."

"And you moved to Ohio and got a job answering phones for morons? Dude," Ian said, luckily actually sounding really sympathetic or otherwise Sam would have blown him off. "Well, luckily I happen to know the perfect remedy for things like this. You need drinks, lots of them."

Sam made a face at the thought, not really into the idea. He did drink beer, usually one or two with dinner or if he was feeling stressed, but he didn't get drunk that often. He could already tell Ian had plans for getting smashed, the kind of smashed that leads you to losing your car keys and waking up with a bunch of snickering idiots doodling on your face.

"I think I'll pass, thanks," he said with a shake of his head. "After the move I don't have a lot of cash to go out anyway. I still need to wait for my first check next week."

"Really? That's your excuse? Come on, my treat. Think of it as your welcoming party to the happy family that is Sandover," Ian mocked. "Seriously dude, you look tense as hell. Get fucked up tonight and let yourself sleep it off over the weekend. It'll be fun."

Something inside of Sam told him that he really shouldn't. A vague feeling in the back of his mind that he had somewhere to be, something to do, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what that could be. Maybe he was so used to coming home to Madison. She was great, amazing, and he was always eager to get home from work to see her and when he did go out it was always with her.

Might have been why she'd wanted space from him so damn bad. He'd clearly been smothering her. Now he didn't have anything to go home to at all.

He forced himself to push the feeling away that he shouldn't go. Clearly he needed to get out if watching TV was going to be the high point of his evening. Something screamed in the back of his mind that he really should go home, but he allowed himself to ignore it. The breakup with her had only been a fortnight now, and clearly he was just feeling guilty about the prospect of having a nice time without his former fiance. There was nothing left to feel loyal to anymore though. She'd been the one to insist he move on with his life.

"Okay, where do you want to go?" he asked.

"There's this great place called Mita's," Ian explained. "Kind of fancy drinks, but with the greasiest food too. Helps you keep the liquor down. Not to mention, not too far from here so the hottest honeys at the office usually go there to wind down after a week. Trust me, Friday night there is fucking secretary heaven. Enough juice in them and their-"

"Right, I get it," Sam stated quickly to cut him off. He was fairly sure if he let this go on Ian would never stop. In fact, he had the strongest impression he was being asked to come along, not as a kindness, but to act as this guy's wing-man. Still, he'd already said yes. Worse came to worse he could just drink himself stupid, get a taxi home, and then throw it all up in the morning. Who knew, maybe he might even have a nice time.

Ian was right about the place though. It was pretty nice, but not so fancy that it would kick someone out for not wearing a tie. Good thing for him, because he really didn't have any suits to wear just for drinking, and he doubted Ian had ever even see one. They got themselves settled down at the bar, and true enough could already see a few familiar faces there too.

The drinks were nice, starting off with a couple shots to get the feeling going and then a beer to nurse while the buzz kicked in. He could be kind of a sloppy drunk, and he'd rather not make a fool out of himself. Despite what he'd feared, Ian didn't run off the second he saw a pretty face or a set of nice, long legs.

"So all joking aside, how was the first week?" he asked Sam.

"Fine," he sighed out. "I mean, it's not like the work is hard. Handle calls, fill out forms for parts we need if they're needed. I guess I can't complain."

"Spoken like a true office drone," Ian snickered. "How was it really?"

"Like I said, fine. It's boring, but boring is kind of my life. I mean, I could have been anything else. Why bitch about it?" he asked. "I could have gone out and been a cop or a fire fighter if I'd wanted to."

"Sounds dangerous," his drinking buddy agreed. "Lot safer doing this, and I'm pretty sure the pay is better too."

"Yeah," he said softly, laying his fingers on the napkin he'd been given with his drink, trailing it gently and slowly over the counter. That kind of life sounded much more exciting though, thrilling even, but probably short lived. Kind of a dangerous jobs and…  
Sam squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly feeling like they were burning. What the hell? He couldn't be getting hit by the beer this fast, right? His size didn't exactly allow for him to be a light drunk.

"Sam, hey. You okay?" Ian asked as he rubbed at his eyes, blinking the odd sensation away. His head was kind of aching, a sharp pain that was slowly going down into a dull throb.

"Yeah," he groaned softly, shaking his head a bit to clear away the last of the fluff. Damn, what had been in those shots, or was it just residuals of a stressful work week? "Yeah, I'm fine. Think I just got a bit dizzy there for a second."

"You sure? Cause man, if you're not feeling okay, I can take you home," Ian offered.

It was a kind offer, a genuine one, and it made him think a lot better of the guy. Looks like Ian really was just trying to be friendly, so he forced himself to smile and then shake his head again, this time as a decline.

"Nah. Really, I'm good. Just need to unwind after work. This is the best place for me," he said with a little laugh before he downed his beer and waved to the bartender, a pretty redhead with a tight ponytail and crisp white shirt, for another one.

A half hour and a couple drinks later is when he came in. Sam had no idea why he'd looked up at that moment to see the door to the bar opening. A glance, a chance, but it caught him all the same. It wasn't the most extraordinary sight, just a couple guys in suits walking in, an older looking balding man and…

Sam felt his mouth go dry, and he was sure that it didn't have anything to do with the alcohol he'd been drinking. A familiar, along longing feeling hit his chest when he saw the other man. He was tall, though he could tell at a glance wasn't as tall as himself, lean but in a well built sort of way. Something in Sam's mind told him a suit looked good on him, but it completely hid the kind of frame he had in the worst way as well. Every feature about his face looked well-known to him, from the slight stubble on his firm jaw to the crease of his brow above his piercing green eyes. It caused a weird ache in him, that he knew that face, and he couldn't stop staring.

Unfortunately staring at someone in a bar could very easily lead to the wrong conclusion to the people around you.

"I kind of thought you'd go for a girl, but he's not bad," Ian stated casually, breaking Sam out of his trance.

"What?" he asked, feeling foggy and a little lost.

"That guy over there. The one talking to the bigwig, Mr. Adler," he replied as he jerked his head to the pair as they sat down at a table and ordered some drinks. "Real dick bag, that guy. Top of the ladder. Don't think I know the guy he's with though. Must be new meat or something."

"Do you have a gossip file in your brain on everyone or something?" Sam found himself asking.

"It's the only interesting thing going for that place," Ian replied before he looked back over at the pair. "Wish I knew his name. It would make this a bit easier."

"Make what easier?" Sam asked, though a sinking feeling in his gut told him exactly what Ian was talking about.

"To make your move, dude. I mean, looks a little high class, but if I've learned anything those are the types that love to get naughty the most. That uptight, totally repressed aura they got? It's like an explosion when they let loose," he said with a chuckle.

"Ian, I wasn't-"

"Hey man, it's cool. If you're worried I'm one of those judgey types, don't be," Ian replied soothingly. Sam was sure he was getting the entirely wrong impression about all of this. "Lust is lust. Who cares who you're doing it with, long as it feels good to get your dick in them? Though, can't tell if he's the bottoming type or not. Could be though."

"Oh god, that's not-" Sam said, feeling mortified by the thought. Sam didn't judge people either but he'd certainly never done anything like that before. There was no interest like that there for him, and in his twenty-six years being alive, he was pretty sure it would have come up for him before if he did have any leanings that way.

"Okay, I'm going to get you an in," his coworker replied, not listening to his fumbling attempts at a protest. "Thank me on Monday, okay?"

Before he could stop him, Ian waved down the bartender and asked about the drink the mystery guy had ordered and paid for it, telling her to inform him that the drink was on the house courtesy of Sam. It earned the pair an arched eyebrow and then finally a shrug before she walked over with the drinks to whisper to the man about the message she'd been told to give him.

When the guy looked over, Sam should have looked away, but he found himself sitting still as their eyes locked. He was doomed. Did buying another guy from his company a drink count as sexual harassment? He was pretty sure it could count as sexual harassment. This guy was clearly in a position of power, enough that he could grind Sam into the dirt if he so chose to. He was going to lose his job after one week, his savings spent, and nothing to show for it in this flat, boring state.

Dread filled his stomach as mystery guy looked down at the drink and pushed it away, until the older gentlemen next to him leaned in to say something to him. The pair were way too far away for him to hear what was being said, and he had no idea if it was good or bad. At this point, it could easily be an either or sort of situation.

He was pretty sure he wanted to run for his life when mystery guy got up and walked over to them, drink in hand. Sam was sure at best this was going to end in a polite but firm no, at worst, getting clocked across the face. Fancy clothes or not, he looked like the type that hit things and people that pissed him off.

"Hey, listen," he said when he reached Sam. He glanced down at his chest, probably looking at his horrid yellow polo and recognizing him as a lowly tech support guy. "Thanks for the drink and all."

That floored Sam. Out of all the reactions he'd been expecting, that was not one of them.

"Oh, uh, you're welcome," he found himself saying. He probably should confess that Ian had bought the drink, but something held him back. This guy looked so familiar to him, and he couldn't put his finger on why. He couldn't know him. He'd only lived here for such a short while that he couldn't have bumped into him anywhere and not remember it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pull you away from your friend."

"My boss," he immediately corrected. "He's my boss. He's actually why I'm here. He said I should… uh, mingle a bit. Get to know the other employees."

Looks like the new meat theory was correct after all then, or the man was just painfully shy. Didn't seem the type though, and Sam didn't know why he knew that. The way he looked like he was trying to sink back into his own suit was kind of a tip off that he could easily be a wallflower type, yet Sam just wasn't getting that kind of vibe off of him for some reason.

"Well, you're welcome to join us, if you want," Sam replied, feeling he should be friendly as he extended his hand out to shake. "I'm Sam Wesson. Nice to meet you."

"Uh yeah. Dean Smith," he replied, shaking his hand in a firm grip that really seemed to really fit him.

And… he should probably stop thinking about how much or little suit this guy, because it was starting to come across creepy even in his own thoughts.

"This is Ian," Sam said to introduce his companion, but the man was already hopping up off from his stool. "Where are you going?"

"Eh, gonna call it an early night," he replied, winking on the side that Dean couldn't see. "You have a nice time. I'm going to head on home."

Sam felt a panic rise up in his chest, silently demanding the other guy not leave him, but Ian just ignored him and just walked off, leaving him completely alone with Dean. Damn it, he totally thought he'd just succeeded in hooking him up.

Though, that raised the question. Did Dean think this was a hook up? He'd said his boss had told him to get to know other employees, but that excuse sounded kind of weak. If socializing was the order, why not do it with people who were more his level, suits and ties with margaritas, not… well, him.

Which was total crap, Sam told himself firmly. He was good enough to talk to, even if this guy probably made enough a day to match what Sam had to pay in rent every month.

Still, he should probably tell him this was not, in any way, a hooking up conversation.

"Uh, so, feel free to join me," he said as he pushed the bar stool opposite him with his foot, just enough for Dean to take it if he wanted to. "Only if you're not busy though. You can go back to sitting to your boss if you want."

"No, he seemed pretty insistent that we talk," Dean admitted. "Good image for the company, keeping the work place friendly, I guess."  
The words didn't sound that confident, and Sam had to figure he felt a little uncomfortable here too. Okay, so not looking for some nudge, nudge, lets get to know each other kind of thing. That was fine. Sam supposed it wasn't so bad.

"Good week at the office then?" he asked, figuring he should be the one to get this started or they'd end up awkwardly stumbling over a failed conversation the whole night.

"Oh yeah. Getting myself established," Dean said as he sat down with his fancy drink and sipped at it. Sam had to shift a little when he saw just how pink those lips were pressed to the rim of the glass. An urge to mention it hit him, to maybe tease the guy about it, and he firmly ignored it. Not the best idea to act so familiar with someone you only just met, like they were buddies comfortable enough to tease over that kind of thing or something. "It's been a great opportunity here. I was actually scouted. Hard work but great pay so far."

"Sounds like you really like your job," Sam noted, actually feeling a bit jealous. This guy seemed to be exactly where he wanted to be. He was sure he'd literally kill for that right now.

"It's pretty good. Numbers make sense, you know, and I get to interact with a lot of different people," Dean replied, getting a little more comfortable as he talked about his job. "It's always nice when you're on the right track."

"Yeah. Kind of a fulfilling feeling," he replied, while wishing he could say he had the same. He'd once had that, feeling right at home with Madison, loving how bold and confident she was, straight to the point and walked with complete pride. She'd been massively successful too, a sectary to a lawyer, getting paid enough to have easily supported both of them in her apartment in San Francisco, not exactly a cheap place to live.

He'd been so out of his league, yet she'd been so much fun, not stuffy or high maintenance at all.

A very small part of him wondered if Dean was the same way, in a high place in his life, but secretly deep down, maybe more fun than he let on.

"My job is kind of lame. Just answering phones all day to give the same answer to almost all of them," he found himself admitting with a small laugh. "Not too stressful though, and the benefit package isn't too bad."

"Well, ever think about moving to sales?" Dean asked him. "It's got more kick to it."

"Nah. At least where I am I've got some confidence" he admitted as he realized talking to this guy was easier than he thought it would be. He supposed he did kind of owe Ian for this as he fished out his wallet. He didn't have much, certainly not enough to pay for too many drinks, but his credit card was largely empty, just a couple pieces of furniture he'd paid for on it. He supposed he could allow himself to have one nice and irresponsible night. "Want another drink? It's on me."

It ended up going on like that for a while, small and inane chit chat getting a little more in depth as the drinks kept coming and the alcohol loosened his tongue. Sam found himself nearly laying against the bar as he talked, his tab easily in the hundreds by now, and he found he didn't care.

"You see House of the Devil?" he asked as he trailed his fingers lazily over the bottle, half empty. He couldn't remember how many he was on now.

"Hate horror movies," Dean admitted with a soft groan, with a little smile that crooked in a way that made dimples stand out in his cheeks. Sam had long since stopped caring about staring at the guy, finding the sight comforting in a way he was no longer worried about. "You like 'em?"

"Love them, but skip that one. Totally sucked," he replied with a small laugh that ended in an unpleasant burp. God, he'd had sooo much tonight. "Ending was pretty much just the typical Satanic panic stuff from the 80's horror films. Girl goes to some strange house, ends up pregnant with the Antichrist. Saw it coming from about thirty minutes in."

"Sounds awful. Why'd you… Why'd you see it?"

"Well, bad or not, it was fun. Love trashy horror movies. Just kind of fun to poke holes in them on why they make no sense," he said before hiccuping. He glanced out the windows to see it was completely dark now, just stars out in the sky. It was getting late, and he knew that he should be getting home, but he really didn't want to. The place would be empty, no one waiting for him, and he wanted the company right now, craved it.

"Never been much for the scary stuff," Dean confessed. "Worst I ever let myself watch was Scooby-Doo. No way my mom and dad would have let me see anything else."

"Really?"

"Well, m-my sister and I shared a televis… tele… a TV, and she's… ugh, younger than me. Easier not to argue… argue… fight about it," Dean replied as he finished his drink and waved for another. His speech was getting a pretty slurred, and he wobbled a little on his seat when the bartender came up to him and put down a card instead of another drink. "What's this?"

"A phone number for the taxi system," she replied as she insistently pushed it to him. "It's getting near closing. Time to pay your bill and get on home, boys."

Sam really didn't want the night to end, but he really had no choice, and so he allowed himself to hand over his card and watch his emergency funds be swiped away, laying his head on the counter to try and get the room to stop spinning. He was talking more clearly than Dean, but he'd been on beer while his new friend had been enjoying all those fancy mixed drinks, not to mention he was taller, well at least a little.

He allowed himself to be shooed out though, climbing into a taxi with Dean as the guy gave an address to his apartment. Away from the bar it hit him he was feeling kind of sleepy, that a bed was probably the best thing for him now. He didn't even realize when they'd stopped before he found himself getting pulled out, stumbling up the stairs. Funny, had he moved? He was sure his place was on the first floor.

Stupid steps were totally trying to trip him too.

"Come on, Sammy. Let's get you to bed," Dean groaned, pulling him along and leading him to the bedroom to collapse onto the mattress, not even bothering to take his shoes off. The pillows felt soft, wrapped up in silk pillowcases that were easily one of the nicest things he'd ever felt on his face. He didn't even mind as the bed dipped down next to him, thinking of Madison and how much he missed her, and how fucking lonely and awful it was to have no one to come home to. His long arms wrapped around the body next to him, feeling so warm against his own, and he pressed his lips to a smooth throat that felt even nicer than the pillowcase, murmured softly into the skin.

He didn't feel himself get pushed away, and he thanked whoever was listening for that. He was sure if he had to face the night alone he was just going to die, especially when his head started pounding so hard it made him pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we go, first chapter. Hope you guys all liked it. Tried to establish the mood as well as I could with the first chapter. I think I did a good job over all, considering there's only one episode of this verse to work with. Not a lot of details to pull from. Mita's is an actual place, which I haven't been to just yet, but I hear it's a great place for drinks and food.


	2. Walk of Shame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter to It's in His Blood, and I want to thank you all for the reviews so far. You guys are so sweet to be so supportive of this story. I really appreciate it. Also great news. I now have a volunteer beta reader! A big thank you and shout out to gayshipshavekilledme on tumblr for agreeing to read my stuff and correct it for me. They are awesome and so cool. Hopefully this will mean less typos that the spell checker and my own eyes miss.
> 
> That being said, let's get to the fun.

The soft music coming suddenly from the alarm should have been a gentle way to wake up and might have even been the case under normal circumstances. Sadly a hangover was not a good way to start the day, no matter how gentle and soft. Sam jolted back to the waking world as badly as if he had gotten a bucket full of ice water dumped on him. The person next to him seemed to have had the same reaction, flailing a bit underneath of the larger man. The action was surprising, causing him to jerk back because he was pretty sure there shouldn't be anyone in bed with him.

He ended up falling to the floor with a heavy thud, his head feeling like scrambled eggs as lights danced in his vision. He could barely concentrate, feeling like a hammer had been lodged in his skull. Clearly last night had been too much for him, the amount he'd been drinking more than willing to stab him in the back in betrayal for his need to have a good time.

Et tu, alcohol?

He groaned and rubbed at his face, glancing down at himself. The only good thing about all of this was the fact he was still in his clothes, and though it did feel uncomfortable and stiff, it at least meant that he had been a good boy in that department. With everything going on right now, he wasn't exactly in the mood to have to deal with the fallout of a one night stand.

Pushing himself up to a sitting position on the floor, he risked a glance up at the bed to see just who he'd spent the night with. He was kind of curious if he would have to give an apology, even with the PG rating the evening had clearly been.

He felt himself a little stunned when he saw just who he had come home with. Dean stared back at him, looking just as shocked as he felt. His name rang clear in his mind, despite all the drinks he had last night making the rest of the evening a huge blur.

Dean… Dean, Dean, Dean.

The name was blaring at him inside his skull, not unlike a proper alarm clock would have, unlike the music playing over the clock's radio at the moment. The name and the thought he knew it so intimately was filling the uncomfortable silence of the room and he didn't even know why. Strange emotions akin to panic very firmly lodged themselves in his chest as he opened his mouth to say something, anything that would break the moment between them. He felt weird for knowing this guy's name and he didn't even know why that was.

"What happened last night?" the man still in bed asked, his tone curious but not overly shocked, and Sam felt eternally grateful for that. Not only was it words, but it was words that would invite more words. Words were good. Words would keep the silence at bay, because he was fairly sure the silence had plans to smother him to death.

"We were drinking, I think," he supplied and immediately wanted to die just for sounding so lame. No, stop. Words were good. Words were your friend. Just needed to use them less stupidly. "I mean, yeah… we were definitely drinking. I don't remember much about what happened. Think we… came home? There was a taxi..."

"Right. Well, at least we were smart enough to be responsible. I'd never forgive myself for driving home drunk," Dean sighed as he finally broke eye contact. "It must still be parked in front of the bar. I should go and get it soon. Hope I don't get a ticket."

"Probably going to depend on what time it is," he replied as he looked over at the clock. "It's… The hell? It's only 5:30? Who the hell wakes up that early on a Saturday?"

"Early to bed, early to rise," the other man stated, staring at the wall. Was he trying not to make eye contact now?

"On a Saturday?" he asked. He felt that point was pretty important to bring up.

"Every day should be a productive day," Dean said with a shake of his head before glancing back at him. "Are you going to sit on my floor all day or what?"

Sam flushed as he realized that he was right where he landed after flailing around in the bed. Right, he really should get up. Not to mention getting on home. He doubted that Dean was up for company after all. This wasn't the most embarrassing thing that he'd ever had to deal with but it was still more than a little awkward.

Standing up and dusting himself off, he coughed a little and looked around. Had he brought his bag with him? Wait, no. He was pretty sure he'd left it in Ian's car. He had been the one to drive over there, Sam himself not owning a vehicle, and the whole plan had been just to go there to endure his coworker trying to get him to loosen up.

He was going to have to call him and ask for his stuff back, but it was going to have to wait until later. He didn't want to be a dick and call him this early in the morning.

"Look, I know you probably want me out of here as fast as possible," he said to Dean in a soft groan. "I get it. You don't know me, somehow we ended up in the same place after drinking too much… but… could I ask you for a glass of water and some pain killers? I feel like I got run over by a truck here."

"Yeah. Yeah, sure. No problem," he answered as he climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom attached to his bedroom. Sam heard him rustling around, figuring at least the guy was polite enough to be willing to help him with his suffering before kicking him out. Not that he could say he blamed him. If it had gone the other way around, Sam was fairly sure he'd want Dean out of his apartment as soon as possible too.

Though, maybe not for the same reason he realized as he looked around. The place was kind of posh actually. Beautiful and spotless, polished wooden bed frame and large glass windows. It screamed expensive and exquisite, but really what should he have expected? His own place was a mess in comparison to this with cheap IKEA furniture that was functional but not for taste, cardboard boxes that still needed to be unpacked, and a few stains on the wall from the previous occupant. He had a feeling if Dean had woken up in a place like that, he would have freaked out and run for his life, all while rubbing hand sanitizer on himself as he did so.

He seemed like kind of a neat freak to Sam or at least the apartment kind of gave that impression.

Though, Sam had to wonder as he stared at the sheets, pulled around and crumpled up from a night of sleep, maybe not that neat. It was a big bed, too big for just one person. Did Dean like having company over? Was he the kind of guy who was used to someone sharing a bed with him, making a mess out of it and himself with a partner?

An odd sort of feeling curled around in his stomach at the idea that somehow he knew exactly the kind of things Dean did in his bed. Sam considered himself decent at reading people. It was just kind of instinctive. He guessed he could just be empathetic to people, but with Dean it was really coming on strong. Something about all of this just seemed so… fake. Like it was a front.

Dean looked like a guy who could be laid back, comfortable in his own skin, confident, maybe even to the point of being cocky in a way the man himself knew could be both infuriating and adorable at the same time. This room didn't seem like Dean, didn't seem like the man Sam was sure he knew despite the fact they'd spent so little time together.

Maybe that was the way the man liked it, forced himself to appear responsible, but still had a playful side to him. A large bed like this was not for a single man, and Dean didn't have a ring on his finger or any other signs of a significant other. Maybe… maybe the man hadn't reacted much to seeing Sam because he was used to waking up with strangers in his bed. Maybe getting drunk and having a sloppy but good time at home was standard for him, might have even been the plan last night.

Dean really hadn't given much of a reaction at seeing him, and Sam might not be helping by sticking around. Actually, he was the one assuming that he was expected to leave, but the other man hadn't really said anything of the sort.

Oh hell, was he expected to stick around?

No, that couldn't be it. He hadn't asked Sam to get out but he also hadn't protested when he'd mentioned heading out. He was most certainly expected to go once he was ready to.

Dean came back into the bedroom, a glass of cool water that looked so damn inviting to him along with a few pills in his hand. Sam took both, popping the medicine into his mouth before drinking the water quickly. He gulped it down so fast some of the water slipped past his eager lips, sliding down his throat and over his heated skin. It was refreshing and delicious as he swallowed it down needfully, the cool liquid feeling like an oasis in the desert.

He finished with a soft gasp, pulling the glass from his mouth and handing it back to Dean, who he noticed was watching him a bit intensely.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," Dean answered a bit too quickly, taking the cup and turning away. He seemed a little fidgety as he walked back to the bathroom. He heard the water turn on for a moment and wondered if he should stick around or just go. There was only two doors in the bedroom after all, along with a large sliding door for a very obvious walk-in closet. Finding his way out of the apartment would not be hard, and then he could just go home and pretend none of this had ever happened.

The man came back out of the bathroom a few minutes later and Sam wordlessly followed him out. He wasn't even sure what to say about all of this. It was no doubt weird, but he had a feeling he was just making it weirder in his mind. Should he say something? Act casual? Pretend this was nothing? Was it nothing? He really, really didn't know, and he felt like he needed some kind of cue from Dean on how he should act about all of this.

Why was he even making such a big deal about going home with another guy drunk? Nothing had happened.

Maybe he wasn't sure if something was supposed to happen. If he just knew what it was that Dean wanted then it would be easier to shape his own behavior around that.

Though what did that even mean? If Dean had wanted to do drunken making out, would he have gone for it? He was feeling so lonely these days, anything to fill the void might have been welcome, but could have also made him feel even more empty once it was over.

It was kind of easy to imagine the other man on top of him though. He could see it as his eyes trailed over the leather couch in front of the fireplace, leaning back in it, Dean in his lap, legs on either side of him as he smothered him in needy kisses. The guy was tall, but looked a bit on the thin side, and Sam was pretty strong. He could see himself easily able to lift and carry him to the bed as they continued to kiss and grind against each other, the booze leading them to all sorts of bad decisions.

If Dean had wanted that.

He probably shouldn't think about it too much. It hadn't happened and he wasn't getting the idea that's what Dean wanted at all.

"So… I guess I'll see you on Monday," Dean said as he reached the kitchen.

"Huh?" Sam asked, the train of thought crashing so suddenly it caused him to mentally lurch back into the present. He was clearly spending too much time in his head. "Monday?"

"Yeah, you know. Work," he replied, his tone a little pointed, as if Sam should be getting something and he wasn't, like a dumb puppy that wasn't capable of learning a simple trick.

"Oh yeah. Work..." he said, swallowing as he nodded. "I guess I'll just… uh… go."

"Yeah, for the best," Dean replied as Sam fumbled with the door and walked out.

He was down the hall to the stairs before it hit him.

Monday. I'll see you on Monday.

Dean wanted to see him again.

He felt his breath catch in his throat and he almost turned around to go back to the apartment door and ask about that, but he forced himself to keep walking. He needed to figure this out before he went and made a damn fool of himself.

So Dean wanted to see him again, seemingly on Monday. Why not now though?

Well, he did smell pretty badly of booze, both of them did. Cleaning up would have been a good idea, but it was Dean's place. He would have a change of clothes to get into while Sam would have to stay in the same dirty ones. Not exactly a good situation to allow to happen.

Also, he had mentioned work. Meeting up at work would be a purely neutral situation, a place for them to just talk. That had to be what Dean had meant, talking over what had happened in a place where neither of them could get trapped or need to be tossed out into the street once the conversation was over with.

Then again, what was there to talk about?

Unless he'd guessed right and the other man had wanted more to happen that night. If they hadn't both passed out, would they have? The guy was certainly attractive, not a woman like Sam normally went for, but even the straightest man could have looked at Dean Smith and noticed he had a good body and face. God, that face, those soft lips and pretty eyes, with lashes so thick and beautiful they really didn't seem like they should belong to a man. Sam must have stared at that face more than he remembered from the night before because that face was etched into his mind, memorized despite so much of the evening being lost to the amnesia of alcohol that he had drown in.

Sam could ponder about it all he wanted but that kind of thing usually only happened for attraction. How else would he be able to so easily recall such details about a man he didn't even know?

Okay, so he found him attractive. That was alright. It would be something they could talk about on Monday, since that was what was clearly on Dean's mind. He could be open to something new, maybe give it a try. There didn't seem a reason not too. After all, he didn't need to be loyal to Madison anymore. She had broken up with him after all, and she was a nice girl. She'd probably be happy if he could move on and find someone new, something nice for himself.

Though honestly, the idea of his ex being happy at seeing him with someone else really depressed him. Nothing was worse than not being wanted.

Dean could want him though, right? Possibly?

Even if it didn't happen, hell even if it did happen and it was just a little experiment, maybe it could lead to something nice. Who knew, maybe they could become friends and laugh about all of this later on. It would be comforting to have a friend.

Sam conducted his own little walk of shame, without even the fun that was supposed to come before said shame, all the way back to his apartment. The early morning air felt nice and cool on his face, bringing the temperature of his skin down to a comfortable chill. Dawn was just coming about, the sun starting to peek up on the world, lighting the city up just enough he could see where he was going, though the street lamps were still on as well. It all bathed him in an orange sort of glow, calming him down.

Last night would only be a big deal if he allowed it to be. His head wasn't quite on right now, everything confusing and off. It came with a break up of a serious relationship, that was all. He'd get over it eventually.

By the time he got back to his apartment he was ready to crash back in bed, but he forced himself to shower instead. He wanted to wash up and ease his muscles. His headache was thankfully leaving, but the rest of his body was still sore and stiff. The hot water would help, and maybe some simple breakfast, anything that would settle his stomach without any kind of trouble.

Stripping the clothing from his body, he let it fall to the floor in a trail behind him as he walked to the bathroom. He'd clean up later when he felt like it, not having the energy for it right now. His hand gripped the faucet and listened to it squeak as he turned it on, waiting several minutes for it to actually get past icy cold. The pipes in this place were old, much like the rest of the building. Not even old in the well cared for kind of way either. It was cheap and kind of crappy, but moving from state to state wasn't exactly cheap. He kind of just had to take what he could get, because looking around was expensive and it's not like he could have just stayed in a hotel until the perfect place had become available.

Climbing into the stall, he allowed the water to hit him, wash over him and soak his skin. It was getting nice and hot now, even if it had taken a while, though the water pressure wasn't anything to brag about. He found himself wishing he actually had been bold enough to ask to stay at Dean's for a little while. He bet that place had a great shower, multiple levels of pressure and stainless steel spouts, beating into his body and forcing the knots to leave his back.

Dean was probably in the shower right now, enjoying that water, hot and slick against his skin, grabbing the soap to lather up to make him smell fresh and…

Sam unfortunately knew exactly how Dean smelled, had spent all night breathing that smell in, a natural musk underneath a hint of cologne that had a trace of spice. It only helped the idea fill up with details for himself. He'd spent hours with that scent, pressed into it as he'd slept. It was still clinging to his own skin or was that just his imagination? No, if he concentrated, if he really tried to, he could still smell it. It was so familiar, so right to him, it was like it was supposed to be there, supposed to be on his own flesh and be a part of him.

He ducked his head under the water, allowing it to pour over him in soft trails, making his hair cling to his face as he forced himself to breathe. Fuck, it was hard to concentrate. All he he could do was experience the sensations, allow them to consume him without a fight, burn inside of him. His hands planted on the damp tiles of the shower's wall, pressing against the wet slickness as he imagined them on the tan skin he knew Dean had to have under his clothes, sun-kissed and beautiful, and his.

The thought caused him to gasp, but he chased it and pinned it down in his mind, refusing to let it leave or escape him. Yes, Dean was his. That felt so right to say, so damn true it made him ache in his belly. The man belonged with him, belonged to… belonged to him. It was right, it was true, it was what was supposed to fucking be. He shouldn't have left. He should have given Dean what he wanted, not waited for Monday. It was why he'd said he'd see him then, he had to want this just as badly as Sam apparently did. He was just looking for the best way to broach this, to ease in it.

Oh, Dean didn't know Sam, didn't know that Sam didn't need that kind of pace. He could be wild and crazy, rough and eager. He could have shown Dean such things, sinful and filthy, filled with ecstasy and wrong and yet so god damn right at the same time. All the reasons Madison had ended it with them, it had not been for lack of fun in the bedroom.

He could see her body as easily as if she was still there, taunt and eager, clinging to him as he made her groan and beg shamelessly for more. Their flesh pressed together, pleasure tight in their bodies as they chased a need so forceful it was riding right on the edge of pain.

It was easy to see Dean in her place, too easy, but he allowed himself to run with it. Maybe any other time guilt and self-doubt would keep him from indulging in the odd thoughts, but right now he didn't care about any of that. He could feel the water on him and imagine a tongue sliding down his skin instead. He could think of plump lips on his own, bruised from kissing and whining out for more, Sam giving it to him in a forceful and brutal pace, his skin heating up not from the temperature of the water but instead a body next to him, underneath of him, all around him as he claimed him all for himself. He didn't even hear himself grunting as he propped his forearm against the wall of the shower, his free hand moving southward. His hips were only pantomiming what he really wanted to do, what he needed to experience, but it was enough for now.

The fantasy was causing his body to move on its own, his grip tight around his cock. The heat of his member was enough to burn, hard and firm in his palm. He wanted to fuck, to grip a body and hold it down to the bed, to shove his cock inside and take it with only thoughts of his own pleasure in his head, but doing it so well he knew his partner would love it anyway, eager to be used. He'd never gotten any complaints before and somehow he knew Dean wouldn't complain either, would love it. The salaryman would be so good in bed, shoved down face first into the pillows as he took it like a good boy and was made to feel filthy. The tight heat of the man around him, he could only imagine it, but it was a good image nonetheless. His hand was a pale imitation to it, was not enough to satisfy his lust, but it would have to be enough for now.

"Monday," he hissed to himself in a soulful, needy promise. "Monday isn't that far."

Talking wouldn't be the end of it, it couldn't be. He wanted more now, much more. It could be so sinfully sweet, to just grab Dean by his tie and yank him up into a kiss, push his tongue past his lips and taste all of him. Would he be shocked, struggle a bit, or would he be just as eager to indulge? Either way, he'd make sure they had a good time, push him to the desk and give him everything and take everything at the exact same time.

"FUCK!" he screamed out, just the thought of the man underneath of him enough to cause him to unravel. It was short and quick, but he didn't have the stamina for anything else right now. Panting hard, he watched the white mess mix away with the water. He hadn't even grabbed the soap yet, and yet he felt exhausted and spent. That had been…

Intense? A bad idea? His imagination clearly wanted to run off on its own and have fun, inhibitions be damned. He'd never even thought about another man before, and yet that had been a little too fulfilling to allow himself to ignore. Did that mean something? He was pretty sure he was too old to be questioning his sexuality, and yet the proof was still kind of there, not gone down the drain just yet.

Maybe he was more open to the idea then he'd ever given himself the time to think about, but wasn't that an instinct thing? Wouldn't he have had the urge before now? He certainly hadn't suddenly stopped wanting women either. So yeah, that was still a thing.

Was his bisexual? Was it just a thing where he could want Dean and not other men? Should he try to look at other guys and see what it did to him? Maybe it was a subconscious thing, something he just didn't know about himself. No, he was fairly sure he would have had an urge to look at another man naked before now if he had any kind of inclination towards that kind of thing.

He'd looked at Dean though, had wanted to look at him, like a lot. He'd been drawn to him from the second he'd walked into the bar.

Which meant that Dean was special for some reason.

He didn't entirely understand it, but that was no excuse to ignore it. It had to mean something and he needed to figure out what it was. He obviously couldn't just follow his fantasy and grab the other man and start molesting him. Acting forceful in the bedroom could be fun but it was also a good way to get yourself fired in the workplace. He needed to make sure he did this at a pace where it would be respectful while still conveying the fact that there was an interest there. Even with Dean interested as well, there was such a thing as consent, not to mention behaving at work. It was not the kind of place to get down and dirty.

Though… if Dean was into that kind of thing…

Something to ask about for sure, after a couple dates and some conversations.

"Monday," he said again, much less intensely this time, as he grabbed his bar of soap and started to wash off. He should hurry up here before he went through all of his hot water. "We'll talk on Monday like he suggested and get this all sorted out."

It was a promise that helped him calm down. With luck, this could be something nice, even it was just to blow off steam. Hell, maybe it could even become something more, though Sam knew he was too emotionally raw to even think about anything serious. Getting dumped left him feeling needy but that would be too much to put onto someone else right now. Giving it a little bit of time before he started to get attached, that would be smart.

At worst? Well, at worst he'd make a fool out of himself, freak the man out, get dumped before it even started, and be no worse off than what he had been when Madison had kicked him out of her place.

So, yeah. Nowhere to go but up. Why not give it a shot?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it impossible to explore Sam and his relationships without touching on how they always seem to crash and burn for him. Poor guy. Makes me wonder why he even still tries to get emotionally attached with anyone. It never ends well for him.


	3. Windows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was really eager to get back to this story. Despite it being a gift for another author, I really have been enjoying delving into it. My muse has been very kind to me lately. Thank you, muse. Also thanks to you for the watches and reviews.
> 
> Oh, and a slight warning to the readers, just in case. Expect some canon typical mood and themes from the show, including violence. Nothing extreme, but it's there. So, fair warning if you don't like that kind of thing it's going to be in this chapter.

Once washed off and cleaned up, Sam was more than willing to go to bed and get some more sleep. The amount of alcohol really had messed him up, and sleeping until it all passed from his system seemed like the best idea possible. Heading to his bedroom in his little apartment, he grabbed some shorts and slipped them on before he tossed his used towel to the side. He knew he really should put it in the hamper or at least allow it to dry somewhere but he was really too mentally exhausted to bother with it.

"Man, it's hot in here," he muttered, going to the window to open it and allow some breeze in. His fingers paused though when they rested on the latch, seeing it already unlocked. He felt confused when he saw it, sure when he'd locked it before he had left for work yesterday. He'd double-checked all the locks in the place before he'd left. He wasn't in a bad part of the city, but it wasn't exactly upscale either, and he did live on the first floor.

Opening the window, he looked outside, feeling a little uneasy when he saw the gravel by the building look disturbed as if someone had pushed off on it to climb into the window. He knelt down to look at the floor, wiping his fingers over the wooden floor, frowning when he felt a little bit of dirt and small rocks. Someone had been in here.

He should have felt odd for how quickly he put this together, how easily he knew how to look for this, but his mind was kicking into overdrive. Someone had broken into his apartment, but how? They lock didn't look broken. Had they used a wire or a knife or something to open the latch? He didn't see any scratches but did that mean anything? Maybe they just hadn't left any damage.

Damn it, he needed to figure out what they'd done when they'd gotten in here.

Several hours later, and Sam just felt like an idiot. He couldn't see anything missing, all of his stuff where he'd left it. His laptop was still on his table, small television hadn't been moved, and he didn't have any cash missing that he'd left in his sock drawer, the couple of twenties he'd had set aside for emergencies. He didn't have that much worth taking but he would have figured something would have been gone.

A really paranoid part of him had checked to see if anything had been left like hidden cameras or something just in case he was dealing with some pervert. Honestly, that had taken the most of time looking. Still, there wasn't anything there, at least anything he could find, and he'd checked every corner he could.

It should have relieved him but instead he just felt even worse. Someone had been inside of his place and he didn't know what had happened.

Sam ended up pulling clothes back on and locked his window again, thinking for a second before he went to the bathroom and grabbed some floss, yanking a piece off and setting it on the windowsill by the frame. If anyone else came back in, it'd be out of place. No one would think to put that back.

He was acting paranoid, and feeling kind of stupid for it, but he didn't really care. Instinct was screaming in his head he needed to be careful.

Once done with that, he grabbed his phone and dialed it.

"Hey Ian," he said after it rang a couple of times. "Yeah, no. Had a great time last night. Listen, could you do me a favor and come by my place? I left my bag in the back of your car and I kind of need it. Also, if you don't mind, do you think you could take me to a hardware store? I need to pick up a few deadbolts and stuff for my apartment."

He groaned as he heard the man's reply over the phone and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah, sure. I'll tell you how it went with my new drinking buddy. Just get over here."

* * *

"So someone broke into your place?" Ian asked as Sam looked over the various locks that were available to purchase. "Really?"

"That's what it looks like," he admitted.

"Probably someone looking to jack some crap to sell at a pawn shop or something," the tech support employee guessed.

"Yeah… maybe," Sam replied before grabbing the ones that looked decent. He was spending so much money before his paycheck, but he supposed he would just have to deal with it later. Maybe he could put in a day of overtime or something to make up for it. "Nothing got stolen though."

"Pfft. Might be a sign you need to upgrade then," Ian snorted. "Seriously though, everything okay? You want to call the cops or something?"

"No, don't think I do," he said as they walked through the line and waited in the checkout. Honestly, he wasn't even sure what he would tell them. Nothing had gotten broken and there was nothing at all that was missing, at least that he had noticed. From what he could tell none of his stuff had even been moved around. What would he do, mention to them where had been a bit of gravel in his room?

All that would happen is someone would come by, take a report and then it would never get looked into again. A city this size he bet he wouldn't even be the only petty theft reported today, and he didn't even have the theft part.

"I just moved in," he found himself saying, even though he didn't feel that confident about the words coming out of his mouth. "I bet the place gets hit all the time and they just didn't mention it. Especially with me living on the ground floor. Not exactly hard to access, you know."

It wasn't entirely the truth. In fact, something felt really wrong, but he wasn't going to allow himself to make that big of a deal out of it.

Not yet anyway. Not until he knew for sure he needed to worry.

"Alright man, as long as you're sure," Ian said with a shrug. "So, how'd it go with Mr. Upper Crust? Was he a screamer?"

Sam hesitated, not sure if he should get into it or not. Nothing had happened but something always could in the future if he played his cards right. He didn't want to blow his chances before he even got started just because he couldn't keep his mouth shut. Guys who kissed and told very rarely got calls back after all. Not to mention, romances between two people of the same sex? Yeah, that would definitely cause some gossip. He would never forgive himself if he ended up getting Dean hassled at work over something like that.

"If I said nothing happened, I'm betting you wouldn't believe me, huh?" he asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Not really, no," Ian laughed.

It was his turn next to pay, so he put his things on the counter and waited until it was all rung up before handing over cash for the purchases. With a quick shake of his head when he was asked if he wanted to start up a points reward account with the store, he left with the items in a plastic bag and the other guy trailing off behind him.

"We fell asleep in a bed together," he admitted. "Don't tell anyone about it."

"Oh man, that's awesome. Did you go to a hotel?"

"I mean it, not anyone."

Ian hung his head for a second before crossing his finger over his chest.

"Your secret is safe with me, I swear," he promised. "So, details? You can skip all the hardcore crap though. Not into that, but something juicy happened, I can tell."

"Actually, no. He took me to his place and we fell asleep in his bed. That was about it," he explained. "I mean when I woke up the next day he did seem kind of interested in talking about it later on. I guess he was too hungover to want to commit to anything then and there."

"That's it?" Ian asked. "All of that, and you got yourself a freaking maybe? Lame."

"Well, we'd both drunk too much to even do anything anyway. Enough to make bad choices, to much to physically be able to pull it off when the time came. For the best anyway. If I'm going to spend the night with someone, I'd like to be able to remember it in the morning," Sam sighed.

"You got that sloppy, huh?"

"Dude, my head still hurts a little bit. Just a small throb though."

"Yeesh. Must have hit it pretty hard last night. Well, it's what the weekend is for. Anywhere else you want to go or should I drop you off at your place in order to keep all the bears out, Goldilocks?"

Sam just shot him a look.

"That's not even how that story goes," he pointed out.

"Eh, sue me. So I don't have the freshest material on a freaking Saturday afternoon. Anyway, you want to grab lunch or something before you head back?"

"No thanks. I appreciate it, but I think I'm just going to install these locks and then head to bed and sleep the rest of the day away. I've got some frozen meals anyway."

"Sam Wesson, the master of high living," Ian snorted before they climbed back into the car and drove off.

* * *

The last screw slowly split the wood, digging into the paneling as he pushed it in steadily. It had taken a little longer than he had planned on it but at least he was done now. He'd put two new locks on his window and four on his door. It wasn't exactly Fort Knox, but he felt a lot better about it now.

Tossing the screwdriver aside, he went to the sink to get himself something to drink. He was pretty thirsty after all the work, and he popped a couple more pain pills into his mouth before guzzling it down with a full glass of water. The stupid headache was not going away, now just a throb in his head that wasn't intense enough to hurt but just enough pressure for him to notice it. This was pretty ridiculous. He hadn't been that drunk, had he?  
It had been enough to get his straight ass in bed with another man, a man who he'd fantasized about while having his shower. Maybe it had been enough. Still, he was pretty sick of this pain.

Hit stomach told him that he should eat something, but the bed was too inviting right now. He'd put off sleep too many times now and he really just wanted to be able to rest now. He could always just eat later. It wasn't going to kill him to skip a meal or two but if he didn't hit his mattress soon then he was sure this pain was just going to end up much worse in the long run.

So he allowed himself to pull back his sheets and fall into them, out like a light before his head was even on the pillow.

_Blood seeped over his shirt, sticky and thick as he screamed out, the ghost on top of him grotesque and terrifying as he struggled to get to the keys to start the car. If he could just get her in the house, to her kids, it'd be over! He screamed in pain as his whole body felt like it was being ripped apart, almost too loud to hear the gunshots rip through the image of the woman above him, causing her to vanish. He took the opportunity to hit the gas, promising with a threat to take her home._

_He felt his arm sliced open and a knife put to his throat as he was yanked over to the female vampire, the thing tortured and starved. Blood dripped out past his skin, dripping on her face as she snarled like a hungry animal, desperate and needy before she turned away to hide away from it in order to refuse to fall to temptation._

_Sam screamed out as he felt the pliers on his hand, pulling at his fingernail. The pain was unbearable, tied up as he was tortured, the cheery Christmas decorations stupidly ironic at how cheerful they looked to the horrific scene he was being forced to take part in. His whole hand was on fire from the pain as it was pulled away, the blood left behind on his finger stinging as the exposed air hit it._

Sam jerked awake with a gasp, throwing his blanket off of him. The material felt like it was strangling him, clinging to his body with an unearthly force, wrapped around him as he kicked against it and struggled. Only a few seconds passed until he was free, but they felt frantic and horrible as he fought against the cloth.

Panting hard, sucking in his breaths desperately, he swung his legs over the bed and put his hands into his head. Sweat, slick and warm, was all over his palms and the feeling was beyond gross, but he was too focused on trying to breathe to even care all that much.

"What the hell was that?" he choked out, trying to get his heart to stop beating a mile a minute on will power alone.

After a while, he felt himself calm down. It was all a dream, nothing more. A vivid, awful one, but a dream nonetheless. Nothing to allow himself to get all freaked out over. People had bad dreams all the time, though he didn't remember any of them ever feeling that real.

He lifted his head, looking out the window, and for a second he was sure he was still dreaming when he saw someone suddenly move away from it.

"Hey!" he yelled, jumping up and rushing to his window. He felt himself panic when he saw two of the locks he'd put in place were open and the latch about halfway unlatched. He quickly slapped it out of place and threw the window open, looking out into the alleyway.

There was no one there, no one at all. Nothing but orange lights on the ground, dark otherwise in the alleyway. Either they had gotten away quick or he'd just been seeing things.

He found himself firmly hoping it was the later as he slammed the window shut and firmly put all the locks back in place and closed the curtains tightly.

He stared down at his hands, noticing the first time a strange, yellow sort of powder on the tips of his fingers.

"What the?" he breathed before he saw more on his window. He looked at it curiously, wondering just what it was. Whatever it was, it smelled awful. "Just what was that freak doing?"

He went over to his bathroom to grab some cleaning supplies, groaning when he saw it was close to three in the morning. Great, just great. He could at least have slept through the night. Grabbing a rag and wetting it down, he went back to wipe the mess away. He wanted to open up the window to allow the place to air out, but he really didn't feel comfortable with that, so he just sprayed some Febreze around the spot and called it good enough.

He really should have gotten a place on a higher floor. In fact, tomorrow he was going to see what he could do about getting his lease changed and move up to floor three or so. It would be a whole lot better if he didn't have to worry about creeps trying to get into his apartment whenever he wasn't keeping a watchful eye out. No cheap rent was worth this kind of crap.

Sam didn't sleep for the rest of the night, waiting on his bed as he stared at the window. He let the curtains open, silently watching the clear glass for anything. Movement, a shadow, anything at all that would tip him off that his prowler had come back. He was determined to catch the person or at least make sure to get a good look at them if they came back.

Every once in awhile he'd hear a sound, a car driving by, a door opening or closing on another floor, or just up the hall, but nothing else happened. The night was still, silent as the grave. He felt tense as he waited for something that seemed would not happen, would not come. Still, he didn't even inch away, didn't allow himself to even fidget as the sun came up and light streamed back into the world that he suddenly felt was just threatening enough for him to be paranoid.

It didn't give him any comfort that the person at his window had never come back. He knew it couldn't have been a dream, but it didn't matter even if it had been. Someone had been out there and they had been trying to get in. That was enough for him to know he couldn't risk falling back asleep, even if it had just been his imagination playing tricks on him. He wouldn't have been able to rest under even the slightest chance that something was wrong.

His stomach growled in dissatisfaction as he realized he had gone a whole day without having a meal, not even a snack. He didn't want to move, but he didn't really have much of a choice as he finally allowed himself to get up and move over to his kitchen, though he paused a few times to glance back at his window, just in case. Still, when he saw nothing he forced himself to try and forget it, knowing he couldn't just sit there forever.

Opening his freezer, he grabbed the first box he could get a hold of, stripping off the plastic and throwing the meal into the microwave and then grabbing a beer from the fridge. Considering it was time for breakfast it would be better for him to get some cereal inside of his stomach, but honestly he felt like some hot food would do him a lot better. The beer was needed too, something to calm his nerves.

His body's pain was finally gone too, and that was a relief. That had been an annoyance to have to deal with and it was nice that it was just over with. Some more water and food probably would have helped with that. He snorted at the thought, knowing he needed to really take better care of himself. It was no doubt where the bad dreams had come from, just physical discomfort. Really, what was he thinking? A lost fiance and sudden move to another state was no reason to allow his life to go to hell.

Come his first payday, he was going out shopping for some real food and maybe a couple of things to help him relax a bit.

Drinking hadn't been the answer, clearly, even if it had led to him meeting someone new. A trashy, screwed up life was not the thing to get another person involved in. Then again… was he really doing that bad?

He felt a lot better now, not so achy and with little pains all over his body and inside of his head. Nightmares or no, the sleep had done him a lot of good. Too bad they'd been so full of pain and blood. He wished he could have seen a horror film yesterday so he could have had something to blame it on. Hell, as he listened to the microwave buzz as it spun his insta-meal around it made him feel a lot better. The sound of the contraption was normal, and actually a little bit soothing because of it. Something normal, even as trivial as that was kind of welcome.

He would go to his landlord a little later on, once it was a more reasonable hour. After some food in his stomach, he could just start packing up his stuff and move. Luckily most of his stuff was still in boxes. At worst it would chew up the afternoon. He'd been done by the time he had to get some dinner. Then he could just relax until it was time for him to go back to work on Monday.

Monday was something to look forward to. He could see Dean, talk to him a little bit about what had happened before, and see if the man wanted it to happen again, maybe with a little bit more touching in bed next time. He probably shouldn't lead with that though. At best it would get a firm no, at worst a punch in the mouth. He really didn't want either if he were being perfectly honest.

It had been too long since he'd had good sex if he was so fixated on this. God, when was the last time since he'd been able to touch Madison?

He actually couldn't remember. Things had been so bad between them towards the end, she was too tense to even want to be near him. He remembered tears in her eyes last time he'd seen her… blood on the floor right after he'd…

The microwave beeped suddenly, breaking his thought process. For a second he'd… No, he couldn't remember what he'd been thinking about. He supposed he was still a little sleepy. Grabbing a fork from the drawer, he took out his meal and started to eat, sipping down the beer to get the soggy taste of the cheap food out of his mouth. It wasn't much, but it at least was something in his stomach, which was a lot better than what it had gotten the day before. Fuel for the tank was better than nothing at all, but he'd be happy when he could get some ground meat and vegetables, that was for sure.

It turned out harder than he had hoped to get another place in the building. The old lady who ran the place wasn't happy to hear about the holes he'd drilled into the place for the locks only for him to want to take them out and move them someplace else. He'd spent a good amount on them, but all she cared about was the 'damage' that had been done. He finally just gave up and told her they could stay where they were when she threatened to take his security deposit over it. Twenty bucks wasn't worth losing the three hundred he'd put down just for a couple holes. Still, it made him feel like he'd wasted his whole Saturday for nothing.

Well, whatever.

He ended up being allowed to take a vacant place on the sixth floor. It was kind of a pain, but at least it only took a handful of trips up the elevator to get most of it moved. His bed and the larger furniture was a pain since the service elevator wasn't working at the moment, but he wasn't about to complain. As long as he didn't have to deal with some kind of creep at his window again then who really cared about a somewhat annoying move. It wasn't piling his whole life in a moving truck again so this was already a step up. And best yet, it didn't even cost any extra rent.

All in all, he supposed he couldn't complain all that much.

It was about one in the afternoon by the time he was done and collapsed in a chair when he was finally finished. It was a good thing he hadn't bothered to get most of his stuff taken out and put away yet. Still, he was so sick and tired of getting all of his stuff in a new home, he was sure he was going to force himself to be comfortable here for a long time no matter what he found wrong with it.

"I think I might just die here if I can get away with it," he chuckled before getting his television plugged in and the VCR attached to it. He grabbed a movie at random and popped it before he even bothered to look at the cover.

Huh. Friday the 13th. Not a bad choice.

Resting back in his chair, he pushed play and allowed himself to get caught in the camp of it all. There was nothing quite like a good horror movie. It would have been better if they'd had Pamela Voorhees in a little earlier though. Would have made the build up a lot better.

After the first one, he put in the second, then the third. He was only half watching but he didn't really want to sit in silence right now. Even as background noise, it was welcome to him right now. He just needed the distraction.

Still, he was caught up in it enough, that he didn't see the eyes watching him from his new window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much to really say. Only that I hope that you liked this chapter and that you can review. I really appreciate hearing back from you guys.


	4. Run for It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally thought about just writing this story completely from Sam's perspective and give him all the POV scenes. However in the end I felt this shortchanged it a bit, especially since we should be able to get into Dean's head and see what he's thinking about all of this. Both of these boys are just too much fun.

While across town Sam Wesson was having a horrible weekend that was filled with worries about break-ins and weird dreams, Dean Smith's two days off weren't going much better even if they were for completely different reasons. At thirty years old, a director of his own department and fresh with the company, Dean's life was going places, good places. He'd worked hard to be so successful at such a young age, planning on a fruitful retirement and eager for all the good things in life that came to those who worked for them.

He was pretty sure he'd screwed all that over, or at least it seemed pretty likely he had.

There was only so much you could blame alcohol for. You still needed to be in control of yourself, keep from making decisions that were too stupid. He honestly didn't know what he'd been thinking on that cab ride home, but the memories of grabbing that guy and pulling him up to his apartment were pretty clear in the rest of the hazy evening. It had been stupid. He'd shared cabs before on nights he'd relaxed a little too much and had always let the other riders go home to their own place.

In college he'd been a little bit more wild, but now he liked to think he was much more responsible. Drunk sex was not something that was good for anyone. Most of the time it ended up going very poorly and left you feeling sore in the worst ways after. Dean was too old and too mature to be letting random strangers into his place, and was certainly too old and mature to drag them in when they were way too drunk to even think about properly giving consent.

He'd spent the last couple days trying to work, handling spreadsheets that needed to be ready for Monday, and trying to organize a presentation that was for Tuesday. He was supposed to be trying to entice a contract, a very lucrative one that would give them business for the next five years in selling materials, but it was hard to concentrate when he kept thinking about how he'd essentially forced another employee into his bed without even thinking about it.

The fact that nothing had happened hadn't calmed his nerved at all. It only meant both of them had been too drunk to act on stupidity. At least that's the way it would be presented if the guy complained. Why wouldn't he? Dean wasn't in charge of the tech team in any way, shape or form but he was still above them in the cooperate ladder. It could easily be presented as sexual harassment in the workplace, trying to get sexual favors out of someone who didn't have the clout in the company to think he could fight back.

He'd tried to smooth things over that morning as best he could. Sam had mentioned leaving the second he'd woken up, clearly very eager to be told he was allowed to leave. He wasn't about to keep him there against his will, but the guy had probably been terrified something was going to happen. It would have been polite to offer him coffee or maybe a spot to eat for breakfast, but it would have come with the risk of looking like he was trying to force Sam to stay. It would have implied all the wrong things. So when the tech employee looked like he wanted nothing more than to split, he'd done his best to make sure it was clear he had no issue with that.

The last thing his career or his reputation needed was rumors that he lured employees down the cooperate ladder to his home for some kind of sick power games.

Nothing had happened, and Dean tried to make himself feel better with that. It wasn't like his unexpected bedmate could just go complain to HR on Monday and it would automatically mean he'd be out on the curbside by noon. At worse there would be an investigation and he could explain the only reason he'd even gone to talk to Sam was because Sam himself had bought him a drink and then Mr. Adler had insisted he go and talk to him in order to be friendly.

Nothing else had to come to light. He didn't have to tell anyone that he happened to be a bisexual who had a leaning towards women but certainly liked handsome guys too. No one needed to know that he'd been caught off guard by the look of Sam that morning, crumpled up and a mess yet still somehow looked good in a disheveled kind of way. Even sleep logged and blurry eyed as Sam had seemed, he had a well built body and when he'd thrown back his head to drink his water, Dean had unfortunately seen every muscle in that thick neck and been a little too interested in the sight.

Though he was sure Sam had caught him staring, so the in the closet bisexual knew he wouldn't be able to lie about any kind of possible attraction if he was questioned on it.

No. They couldn't fire him just because he'd looked at another guy's neck. That was stupid. He was just being paranoid.

Yet, he found he couldn't relax either. He was sure by the time Monday came around a team of lawyers with lawsuits would be waiting for him in the office and he could kiss his career goodbye.

His mom and dad would be so disappointed in him. They'd worked all their lives to set up a college fund for him and Jo, to make sure they could go and do whatever they wanted with their lives. Hell, his sister was still a senior in college. They didn't need to be hearing about how their son had gone and screwed things up only a week after landing such a lucrative job. He wanted to call them but he didn't think he could bear to explain what happened.

So instead he forced himself to work through his weekend. He allowed himself to indulge a grilled cheese sandwich, his cheat for the week on his diet, and kept busy. It's not like the work still didn't need doing anyway. Sunday night was restless for him, barely able to sleep before eventually he just gave up and got up a full hour earlier than normal and made himself a latte, double strength, and checked over his files and paperwork one last time.

He didn't arrive to work any earlier. His 7:30 am to 5:30 pm day was already a long one, ten hours at the office. There was no reason to come in before the sun was even up. Still, he felt jittery as he drove to work and parked in his labeled spot. He was waiting for the elevator to arrive down on the first floor, hitting the button three times when he was sure he was doomed.

"Dean?"

No. No, no, no.

He glanced over at Sam, striding over to him with a big goofy smile on his face that the sales director was not willing to admit was endearing for all the bonus checks in the world. It wasn't a devious expression of one who was planning on ending his career but it still set him on edge.

"Mr. Smith," he found himself stating brusquely. If he was going to get in trouble for this he was going to insist on a professional treatment. He wouldn't have his name drug through the mud, and he would expect things to stay courteous.

Sam's smile immediately fell, seeming confused and maybe even a little hurt.

"I… ah, okay. Mr. Smith," he said, looking down and glancing away. Just how was it a guy that damn big could look so small, like a dog who'd been scolded for making a mess? "Good morning."

"Good morning," he said, vainly wishing there was someone else here to witness this conversation. Just in case. "You're here early. I thought tech support usually came in at nine."

"Oh yeah. I actually thought I'd start early for this week. Need some overtime," he explained. "Little short on cash. Just moved here and it was kind of expensive."

Hadn't Sam been the one to buy all the drinks Friday night though? Wow, now he felt bad. He considered offering to cover what would have been his share, especially since he didn't drink cheap and he remembered Sam had mostly stuck to beer, but he didn't think offering the guy cash right now would look too good on him.

"Look, about Friday-" they both said at the same time before their matching words cut them off. He coughed a little and waved his hand for Sam to start. He himself was working under the impression that his actions could have cost him his career, maybe would get the company sued or something, but Sam wasn't acting like he had anything like that in mind. Maybe this would all blow over as the silly little drunk incident it had clearly been.

"It was nice to hang out," the taller man said. "And I'm glad you wanted to talk today."

He did? When had he said that?

"Mr. Wesson, I-"

"Sam," the guy immediately corrected with a smile.

Why was the elevator taking so long?!

Dean felt sweat build up on his neck despite how cool it was in the building. He didn't even know why. Something about how friendly Sam was clearly trying to be was making him feel on edge. Something was up here and he didn't know what it was. Swallowing thickly, he shifted from one foot to the other when the doors finally opened and he got inside.

He didn't know why he'd thought this would have been an escape, seeing as how the other employee stepped on as well and the doors slid shut. Wonderful. Now he was completely alone with him. This was loads better.

"It was… embarrassing," he admitted with a flush of his cheeks. "I don't normally drink like that."

"I don't either. Guess it was just nice to meet someone new," Sam replied warmly. "Oh, I uh got you something. It's not much but I thought… well, you know. Here."

He dug into his bag and pulled out a muffin for him, chocolate chip. It was probably full of sugar, carbs and all the things he wanted to avoid right now with his diet.

"No thanks," he said immediately. He could already see the expression of his partner in the lift falling again so he continued quickly, not even sure why. Maybe he just didn't want to appear rude. It certainly had nothing to do with guilt clawing in his stomach when Sam looked upset. That was stupid. "I'm on a diet right now. I'm getting kind of flabby, so I'm cutting back on everything right now. It's been just salads and liquids for me."

"Oh. Dude, that's the last thing you want to do to lose weight."

"Excuse me?" he asked. "What do you mean?"

"Okay, so it's like this. The human body is used to things like a lack of food, right? Because it's only been like the last hundred years or so that we've had things like grocery stores and steady food supplies. When you think about it though, we're a lot more used to having to make it through winters without much food, or natural famines and the like. So our bodies have literally developed into getting through starvation. When you fast, your brain will start to think you don't have any food to eat instead of you just choosing to eat less. So while you will lose weight at first, in a few weeks your metabolism will slow way down and you'll only end up losing a small amount of fat. Worse yet, your body will store fat for next time, so when you start eating normally again you'll just gain all the weight back and then some."

"Wait, what?!" Dean asked in shock. "So I'm just eating salads and drinking water for no reason?"

"Well, I mean it's still healthy to eat salad. You just need to make sure you still get some protein and carbs in there too. The trick is just balance and to burn it the right way."

He felt a little floored as the elevator dinged and the door opened up, Sam stepping off for a moment before holding it open with his hand.

"Hey, do you jog? We should totally jog some time," he said. "I love exercise. It's great for the body."

It certainly looked like it was great for his body. The guy was built in a way a gym rat would envy.

"I never… uh… no. I don't," he admitted softly.

"Let's go jogging. How about tomorrow? Maybe after work? We can bring some clothes for it and find a path in the park," Sam suggested, to which Dean found himself nodding mutely. "Great! See you then, Mr. Smith."

As the doors slide shut, he could only feel confused about the whole conversation that had happened. Especially confused about why the other man had seemed so happy about it. He was sure when the elevator was almost closed he'd heard Sam say something else in a breathless groan.

"Oh holy hell, I can't believe that worked."

What had worked? What just happened?

He got through the next couple of days in a fog. There wasn't any warning waiting for him, no email about how he needed to keep from harassing other employees. It seemed the night was gone and over with no repercussions to worry about. He should be counting his lucky stars but he was still kind of wondering over his new plans for Tuesday.

It was only by sheer force of will that he was able to get through the pitch meeting. Three cups of coffee helped too, forcing him to be sharp and focused through it. Still, by the time it was over he was collapsing on a seat at the long table after the others had left, a sea of suits leaving him to ponder over everything. He hadn't talked to Sam since that Monday morning, though he'd seen him once in the lobby when he'd run down to get something from his car he'd nearly forgotten during lunch. He'd been flashed a smile again, damn that guy smiled at him a lot, and he'd found himself giving a little wave for some reason.

Now it was three o'clock in the afternoon and he still had a couple hours left. He was sure his boss would be by later to congratulate him. The meeting had gone over well and he was sure there would be a big, fat, very prosperous contract for the company because of it. For now though, he was going to take about five minutes and do his best to relax.

This whole thing was stupid. He was feeling high strung over nothing. He'd fallen asleep fully clothed in bed with another guy. So what? That guy had given him some advice on his eating habits and then offered to run with him. Big deal. This didn't need to feel like such a big production. Nothing bad had come from it and he was making a mountain out of a molehill. Not even a molehill. It wasn't even that big. So why did he feel so off?

Could be because Sam Wesson looked like a tall glass of water in the middle of a hot day. Well, at least when he wasn't smiling, which Dean was starting to think was all the time. There wasn't a time he saw him that there wasn't some goofy grin on his face. He must have been on something. What was the expression? High on life? Well, he had said he'd just moved here. Maybe he was enjoying the new scenery or something.

It should have come off as friendly, but honestly it kind of weirded Dean out just a little bit. A small little part of him had to wonder if those smiles were for him, that Sam liked it when he saw him, but that was just stupid. Dean couldn't remember just why he'd pulled the man into his apartment and to his room. Maybe there really had been some bad intention he'd had in mind before he'd passed out. He didn't think so. After all, Dean wasn't the type that liked to sleep around. Flings were for college, fun but ultimately just left you needing to do laundry too many times a week. He'd sown his oats in his younger years and he was done with that now.

Honestly he'd like a relationship, someone to share his life with. He knew his parents wanted him to meet someone. They'd been high school sweethearts themselves and while they never pushed him to find the one too quickly, he knew at thirty he was expected to have gotten married and given them a grandchild by now. He was always just so busy that it was hard to meet someone. Maybe now though that he had something so well suited to him he could meet that Miss or Mister Right, take care of them, and start a family.

His brain lurched when he realized he'd been thinking about Sam Wesson of all people before the musing about starting a family had come to mind. Okay… not going to examine that too closely.

In fact, he was done thinking. Thinking was bad. Time to get back to paperwork in his office. Something that would leave him unable to focus on anything else for the rest of the day.

He grabbed the bag he'd decided to use to hold some spare clothing to exorcise in, a simple t-shirt and pants. He'd actually bought the pants, not really having anything he could run in besides the shorts he slept in and that had felt kind of dumb to even consider what was essentially his pajamas. Using the bathroom to change, he put his work clothes away in a garment bag to get to dry cleaning later and went to the elevator. Pushing the button for the floor Sam worked on, he tried not to feel too silly about what he was wearing in the office.

Why was he doing this again? More importantly, why hadn't Dean thought to tell him he'd meet him at the park or something. In fact, why was he meeting Sam at all?

The second the door opened, he panicked and thumbed the button again, pushing it until the door closed and he breathed deep. He couldn't help but panic. He was not going to be seen walking around in a t-shirt and jogging pants by a bunch of tech support. No way. He'd wait by his car. Sam could find him and if he didn't then he could just drive back to his apartment and forget all about this.

"I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot," he grumbled as he leaned against his vehicle, his briefcase and clothes safely stored in his back seat. Why was he making such a big deal about this? Why did the thought of Sam make him feel so nervous? He knew he wasn't in danger from the guy. This wasn't some kind of trap to make him look like he was hassling anyone.

Sam had bought him drinks. Sam had offered to jog with him. He'd run from Dean's apartment like a bat out of hell, but he'd probably been scared there that something was going to be forced on him. There was nothing wrong with what was going on here. It was all normal. Why was it that this caused him to feel like he'd been trapped in something?

He forced himself to breathe. This was stupid. He could just get into his car and go home. He could say he forgot, or hell, he could just blow Sam off. He didn't owe him any kind of explanation. It was just some stranger at work. It didn't have to matter any more than he allowed it to. He was getting fretful and worried over nothing at all when he was in complete control of his very good, very prosperous life.

No moron that grinned too much with his stupidly good looking neck muscles was going to ruin that for him.

Yeah, he'd just get in his car and drive home now.

"Mr. Smith."

DAMN IT!

He did his best not to grimace when he looked up to see Sam walking up to him, not wanting to do this. His mouth immediately went dry though at the sight. The other guy looked good, very good. He didn't know a simple pair of shorts and a tank top could seem so appealing. It displayed a lot of muscles that the guy had, and while the polo he'd worn before had let Dean notice his sculpted arms, this outfit almost seemed like it left it his whole body on display.

It was showing off a lot of him, yet at the same time was hiding way too much.

"Hi," he croaked, too distracted to even feel stupid over it. He felt like a fumbling teenager discovering porn for the first time, glorious and beautiful while teasing you because as good as it looked you still weren't able to touch it.

He felt himself feel a little worried though when Sam stopped, looking at him curiously. He felt his eyes betray him as his gaze trailed down over that body and realized with a bit of panic that Sam had most definitely noticed him look. He should try to pass it off at being amazed at how much the man must work out to look like that, but something stopped him.

Namely, Sam's grin. It looked heated and predatory, like the cat who ate the canary, nothing like the goofy and hopeful smile from before. It slowly clicked in his mind that he had noticed Dean staring, like he'd noticed the same thing Saturday morning, and it appeared that being stared at seemed to please him.

"Thanks for waiting, Dean," he said, the last word phrased almost curiously, like testing the waters if it was okay to be so informal now.

This time, he couldn't find it in himself to correct him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean is a thirsty boy. To be fair, can you blame him? Honestly, the image of Sam's jogging outfit came from the season eight episode where he gets hired as a yoga instructor. I'd be pretty thirsty at that outfit too. Too bad about the show being filmed in Canada. They should be allowed to dress that way more often.


	5. Let's Get Physical

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided I didn't want to give it much time between the last chapter and this one. I'm just having too much fun with this fic. I'm not sure what it is about Wincest but it's just a sweet little thing to enjoy, and it's been a blast to write this.

At the end of the workday, it was already getting dark outside, twilight hanging over within the sky. Dean didn't bother to watch the sunset often, much too busy to bother with it, but he had to admit it was kind of a nice sight.

"Ready to start running?" Sam asked him, fishing a couple of water bottles out of his gym bag from the backseat of the silver Prius. "Have you done this often?"

"Can't say I do. I did more when I was younger, but it's been longer than I care to admit since I exercised for real," he admitted with a sheepish little shrug. "I should get myself a gym membership."

"Well for now we can just do this," Sam said with a smile. "Anyway, come on. Let's get started."

They'd found themselves an easy little path, nothing uphill or anything that would be difficult on Dean. Filling their water bottles, they headed out, and the sales director felt determined not to make himself look like an idiot in front of this guy. Anyone could look at the two and easily see that Sam was the more athletic of the pair, but Dean didn't take too bad care of his body. A few extra pounds around the middle but he was hardly fat. He was better in short bursts of running though, could sprint alright, but it quickly became clear to him that distance and endurance wasn't something that was going to be easy for him.

His feet hit the trail as he risked a glance at Sam, who seemed to be breathing evenly and was just fine. Dean, who never bothered with watching much in sports or the like, could still tell this was something that Sam was well practiced at. His form was perfection itself, all of him straight and firm as he ran, his breathing even as his chest rose and fell in perfect tandem and rhythm of well planned out movements. The executive panted hard as he popped open his bottle and took a swig, both to distract himself from the sight but also to cool his own rapidly heating up skin.

There were a lot of other things Sam could probably do in perfect rhythm, and that was making running for Dean very difficult because thinking things like that would never be good for steady breathing.

He felt kind of dumb for it and he shook his head to clear his thoughts, but he was a little out of his depth. He was much better with strength training. Doing things like lifting weights was more his kind of speed but he didn't want to quit so soon. No way was he going to allow his manhood to take a hit like that by stopping the other man and telling him that he was done already.

"You do… this a… lot?" he panted out.

"All the time," Sam replied easily, not sounding like he was out of breath at all. "Well, I used to. I haven't been able to since I got here. Again, just moved. It feels good to get back to it though."

They hit a milepost before Dean allowed himself to stop, doubled over and panting.

"W-wait, wait," he gasped out as he shook his head. "Can't do this..."

"You okay?" Sam asked him, a hint of concern in his voice. Dean wanted to glare at him for it, but he didn't feel like that would be very polite.

"This isn't the kind of thing I do much," he said. Sam already knew that though. They'd already talked about this. "Sorry, I'm holding you back. You should just go on without me."

"It wouldn't be much fun if I ran off without you," he replied. "Here."

Dean felt shocked when hands suddenly took his shoulders and pulled him to straighten him up, laying one hand on his chest. He felt dazed at how warm the other man was, his fingers feeling like fire seeping through his clothes and deep into his skin.

"You really shouldn't bend over like that when you feel out of breath. It can hurt your stomach and put pressure on your lungs," he informed him. "Don't want to cramp up. Here, drink your water in slow sips but try not to gulp it."

The man swallowed down the water, letting the cool liquid slip down his throat as he drank it down.

"Man, I don't know why I agreed to this," he stated honestly. "I'm really not good at this kind of thing."

"It's just a matter of stamina. You managed a whole mile before you stopped. For your first time, that's pretty good," Sam informed him. "You're actually in a lot better shape then I would have thought, being behind a desk your whole day and all."

"Well, I mean I do try when I can find the time. Just because I don't get to the gym often doesn't mean I never do at all," he said, feeling a little bit better about it. "We can go again if you want."

"I don't want you to push yourself too hard," Sam replied. "Why don't we just power walk instead? It's still good exercise and we can work on your stamina. A lot of people just start strolling or hiking anyway."

Dean could not help but notice that it implied a lot more of the two of them meeting up. Just why was this guy so interested in seeing him get more fit?

"You really need a friend of your own," he muttered before taking another swig of his water.

"What?"

"Nothing," he grumbled with a shake of his head. "You're just so… I mean… fit. A body like that is the kind that anyone would want."

Sam blushed a bit, the words clearly affecting him.

"So why are you bothering with me? I get it. You're new to town and everything, want to meet people to spend time with, but why bother with me? You could go and get yourself any fitness nut and go spend time with them," he stated.

"I don't want to spend time with some hypothetical jogging partner. I want to spend time with you, Dean," Sam replied.

The words were spoken so honestly, so open and heartfelt, that it honestly floored him. Something in his expressed was just so deep and meaningful, just the way that Sam was looking at him caused him to feel flustered and off guard. His mouth opened and snapped shut, not able to actually say anything. Right now would be the perfect time to come up with something smooth to make himself sound a lot more suave than he was honestly feeling at the moment.

Dean was so out of his element that he was sure he could drown in his embarrassment alone.

"Wow. Anyone ever tell you that you're quite the smooth talker, buddy?" he asked before chugging down the rest of the water and chucking it to Sam before he started to walk again. He couldn't help but feel like he needed to do something to even the playing field a little bit between them. This tech employee was completely showing him up here, and he was not about to feel like some out of shape slob next to him.

"I guess I am trying to impress you a little bit. Not working?" he asked, frowning a little bit.

"Oh no, it's working. I could tell you wanted to show off since the start," he said. Hell, with a sculpted frame like that, who wouldn't? Still, Dean was all about competition. He wouldn't have ended up in the world of business if he wasn't willing to work for what he had and liked to show off some himself. "Now in wrestling, I'm the king of the world."

"Wrestling?" Sam asked disbelievingly, snorting a little in his laugh. "You? Really?"

"What? You don't believe me?"

"Well, no offense but I don't really see a guy in a suit and think pro-wrestler, no."

"It was in high school and college," he informed him with a grin. "I mean real wrestling, not whacking people on the back with fold-up chairs. I used it to get a scholarship to help pay for some of my college. Wasn't bad either, the captain my junior and senior year."

"You must have been pretty good."

Dean didn't even wait a moment before he felt himself grin, the need to flaunt his skills taking over him completely.

"I can show you," he offered.

Sam paused from where he'd been walking next to him, giving off a confused little laugh.

"What?"

"I'll show you. It's not hard," he stated with a nonchalant shrug. "Come on, you just forced me to run for a mile. Surely you can handle a round or two of rolling around."

"There's no mats or anything. Just grass."

"We'll wash up afterward," Dean said before flashing him a charming grin. "Scared?"

That seemed to do the trick, killing the hesitation in Sam. The man finally nodded his head in agreement, walking away from the path and joining Dean in a small clearing.

"So, do I just… uh try and grab you or what?" Sam asked him curiously.

"Sure. Try and put me on my back," he invited.

Sam sputtered at that, red in the face, confusing Dean. What was that all about? The guy did know the whole point of wrestling, didn't he? Maybe all he had seen had been that fake professional crap.

"Go ahead and come at me whenever you're ready," he prompted. He wasn't going to grab Sam first. It wouldn't be fair after all. He'd pin him way too fast.

"Are you sure?"

"Sam, come on!" he ordered. If he was going to be out here, getting his exorcise, he'd like to do it and not have to force the other guy to go along with it. He could always just go home and do some sit-ups by himself if he had to.

Sam rushed the other, grabbing at Dean's torso. It actually surprised him at how fast the man was given his size, coming at him with a speed he wouldn't have expected. He'd planned to take this casually, to maybe show him a couple of moves and pin him once in order to soothe his own ego, but it was clear almost immediately that it wasn't going to be that easy.

His wrapped around Sam's arm, twisting him around just as he made contact, sidestepping at the last moment to use the man's own momentum against him to toss him towards the grass. Falling down on him, his hands gripped his Sam's shirt and forced him the rest of the way down until he met dirt. However, if he thought that was going to be the end of it, he quickly felt himself knocked off balance as Sam rolled around underneath of him.

A surprised kind of shout escaped him as he found himself landing on his back, large hands grabbing him to try and pin him. He found himself fumbling for a second before his legs wrapped around Sam's to throw him off from his center of gravity. With a pained grunt, the larger man fell on top of him and wasn't at all prepared when Dean shoved at his shoulder to push him off and roll over back on top of him. Tangled up in the other man's limbs, he smirked down at Sam while he struggled to get back up. It was pretty obvious as he slowed down that he realized he wasn't going to be able to move unless Dean allowed it.

"How's the view from down there?" he teased as he laid out on top of him, Sam's wrists in his hands as he held them down against the grass. He felt pretty good about himself for winning, and so easily to boot. Sam wasn't bad, clearly had some moves that Dean attributed to good instincts or natural talent, but it was obvious who the better fighter was.

"You're pretty good," Sam admitted as he swallowed gently. The movement of his Adam's apple caught his attention and the wildest thought about leaning in to lick away the beads of sweat from it danced around Dean's head. It slowly dawned on him that he was laying on top of another man, both of them breathless and tangled up with one another.

He was starting to think he should move, to let Sam get up before this got weird. Unless it was weird already? He wasn't really sure. Either way though, yeah, he needed to get up.

"Well, glad you liked my moves," he found himself saying as he let go of his wrists and sat up. Sam's arms snaked up though, hands resting on Dean's hips, fingers idly tracing at just the tips of his shirt, the pads of his fingertips ghosting underneath of the material and tracing over the skin just above the waistband of his pants.

"I do like your moves," the taller man said, his voice undeniably husky. "I like everything about you, Dean."

He found himself shocked when Sam sat up languidly and looked him in the eye, his gaze dark and intense. If he wasn't already sitting down, he was sure that look alone would make his knees feel like soft jello.

"Sam, what are you-"

"This has got to be the best date I've been on in ages," Sam confessed to him.

What now?

Date? A date? Sam thought this was a date?

His brain screeched to a halt as the gears jammed up, a wrench throw right in and causing every single thought in his head to stop with a sickening crunch. The tech support had been the one to suggest running and had been pleased as punch when Dean had agreed. The way he always smiled at him too, the feeling of him showing off… not to upstage Dean but to impress him?

Oh fuck, he was being flirted with. Sam had bought him drinks to get in his pants?!

In hindsight, it seemed pretty obvious and clearly he was a stupid, stupid idiot for not picking up on the clues.

"Well, I..." he said, trying to think of something to say. If he sat there in silence he would just end up looking like an idiot, something he was very desperate to avoid. He wasn't very good when people flirted with him. When he was cranking up the charm it was a lot easier, but with Sam starting touching him so gently, and then with Dean literally sitting in his lap, he wasn't exactly feeling like the smoothest operator here. "I'll admit, I've never thought of running as exactly typical date material."

"You're not having a good time then?"

"That's not really the issue here," Dean replied. He wasn't even sure if there was an issue. Here he'd been worried that Sam would react poorly to be getting brought to his apartment, and the guy was asking him out and flirting with him. It wasn't a bad thing necessarily. Dean wasn't his boss or supervisor, having nothing to do with the tech support aside from the occasional help with his electronics or the odd memo. Going out on dates wasn't technically fraternization so it wouldn't lead to any trouble now that it was clear Sam was a willing participant.

Something inside of him told him it was time to take charge, to reach out too and meet him halfway. Sam had asked him out, put himself at risk of getting rejected or made a fool out of. He'd set this date up and Dean hadn't even realized what it was at first. He didn't want the guy to feel like he had to do all the work here.

Sam's lips were rough, cracked and worn as Dean leaned forward and kissed him, but they were warm too and it all felt amazing to him. He seemed to radiate heat in fact, even damp with sweat. Dean's hands rested on his shoulders, squeezing his muscles and ignoring the feeling of dirt and grass clinging to his clothes. Slowly, very slowly Sam reacted, kissing back, his mouth opening to push his tongue against Dean's mouth. He gave permission without even thinking about it, his lips parting to suck on the tip of his wet and thick tongue before pulling away with a grin.

His ego swelled a bit as he saw Sam looking a little dazed. He wasn't sure who he'd been with before, but he was confident enough in his own skills enough to lay down money that he was the best kisser Sam had now had. He dove in for another, just to seal his claim on the gold, wanting to blow his mind with his skill. He was gentle and coaxing, and Sam followed his pace happily, a soft trace of a moan escaping him as Dean teased along the edge of his lips and licked teasingly at the corner of his mouth.

"D-Dean," he groaned out, falling gently to the ground and pulling Dean down with him. It was rather public, but it was also dark and as long as they didn't go too far it's not like it would hurt anything.

Maybe Sam wasn't thinking the same thing because they hadn't been kissing long before Sam suddenly shoved him away and shot up to his feet.

"Dude, what the hell?!" he snapped up at him, having fallen on his ass when the other man had jumped up and dropped him.

He watched Sam looking out at the trees, tense and turning his head this way and that. He had no idea what he was looking for or what had set him off.

"We should go," Sam said after a moment, his tone cold and withdrawn.

"What are you talking about? Why are you-"

"Dean, I'm serious. Let's just go," he cut him off. He snatched up their things before grabbing Dean's hand and pulled him up. For the first time since the start of their run, he seemed off kilter and uneasy, and though he didn't know why, he wasn't about to argue with him about it.

Had he seen someone? Where they not as alone as he'd thought they were? Maybe he was just worried about someone calling the cops on the two of them or something. All Dean knew was that he looked uncomfortable and even a little scared, and he knew that he didn't like seeing Sam like that, not at all.

"Okay," he said with a nod. "Come on. Let's get back to the car."

It wasn't a run to get back, but Sam didn't stroll either, not a casual little walk on the path. It was starting to freak Dean out a little more every time when Sam would look over his shoulder again and again, as if trying to catch someone tailing them. It was weird too, because Dean was listening for any kind of noise to indicate they were being followed, and he couldn't hear anything.

Sam looked relieved when they got back to the car, climbing in immediately and locking his door behind him. Dean got as far as starting the car before sighing. This wasn't normal behavior and he couldn't just let it sit there like nothing had happened.

"Okay, what was that?" he asked insistently.

"I thought I saw someone, that's all," Sam replied. "It was nothing."

"Who was it you thought you saw, Jack the Ripper? You were totally freaked out there," he said. "You still look freaked out."

"It doesn't matter. No one."

"No one? No one caused you to throw me to the ground and run off like a bat out of hell?"

Sam looked chastised, glancing away, not willing to meet his eye.

"It was… Nothing, really. I think I was just being paranoid," he replied. "My apartment just got broken into this weekend. I think it got me a little paranoid or something."

"Someone broke in?" Dean asked, shocked. "Why didn't you tell me?"

That caused Sam to glance at him, his expression full of confusion.

"Why would I tell you?"

That was a very good question. Dean felt a little offended that Sam hadn't shared his troubles with him but it wasn't like it was any of his business. That was way too entitled of him to even think that, making him feel like a bit of a heel for even saying anything.

"Guess you wouldn't," he admitted. "Still, why would some burglar be out here in the park? You think he was waiting around to mug someone?"

"She."

"Huh?"

"I think it was a girl I saw back there."

If it was a girl, then it was probably nothing. Hell, probably some young woman who'd heard them and had been curious. She'd probably freaked out and run off the second she'd realized that Sam had caught her accidentally peeping on the two of them. Hardly something to get so worked up over.

Still, Sam seemed so worried, so high-strung that Dean didn't have it in himself to say anything about it. As he drove off, he glanced over at him a couple of times before he coughed gently in order to get the man's attention.

"You know, if you want to, you can spend the night," he offered.

"Spend the night?" Sam asked him, confused. "As in-"

"No. I don't do that kind of thing on the first date," Dean corrected him quickly. He did not want Sam to get the wrong idea about him. "You just looked so freaked out that I thought you might like some company. We could swing by your place first so you can get some clothes, grab some dinner to go after and then just talk before we go to bed. I've got a big couch if you don't mind sleeping there."

The bed should be left out of this equation, just to be safe. Dean didn't want to lead Sam on in any way and he certainly didn't want him to think this was some kind of tactic to get him in bed. Either of them depended on how eager Sam would be to go along with it, but neither option was something he wanted right now. While he was sure that sex with him would feel amazing and wonderful, the kind of hot sensations that made Dean's toes curl and make him see stars, it also wasn't something he wanted to rush into.

Even under normal circumstances, he wouldn't want to jump right into what would just be meaningless sex with someone he barely knew. These were not normal circumstances though, and right now he was more concerned with helping Sam calm down than anything else.

"You don't have to," he informed him, wondering if maybe he was pushing a boundary here, but Sam only shook his head.

"No, I think I'd like that," he confessed. "I'll just run up to my apartment and grab what I need."

"Great. Just put the address in my phone and I'll follow the GPS to get there."

He pulled around to the side of the building and waited, but Sam didn't take long. He was up and back down in only fifteen minutes, clearly eager to get going. Wanting to treat Sam, he called ahead to a restaurant he liked while he was waiting, ordering a whole sushi platter dinner special to be picked up for their meal. Despite this little hiccup, he wanted the date to feel like… well, a date.

Dean liked to avoid drama, and usually something that weird should have been a red flag for him, but right now he found that he couldn't just kick Sam out of his car with the, "Well, it's been nice. Don't call me, please," speech. It wasn't just the kiss either, or how good Sam looked. Something inside of his conscious just told him that he should look after him, take care of him until he was calmed down and felt safe and well… he just kind of wanted to do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, you guys thought just because the fluff started it wouldn't still be a nightmare for poor Sam?
> 
> Well, probably not. This is Supernatural after all. Still, rude monsters just can't let two people make out in a park after dark. If this was a cold opening for an episode, the two probably would have been the dead couple that hunters go to investigate later on.


	6. Lose to Win

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has been so much fun to play with, I've been thinking about this story nonstop. I'm in total love with what I've done so far and it's been a thrill ride so far to work on it. It's been a real good thing for me to work on a ship for another writer, especially since it's one that I've never written before.
> 
> Also, thanks to everyone so much for the kind reviews and support on this story. It's been so kind of all of you and I very much appreciate it.

By the time they were back to Dean's apartment, Sam was feeling slightly more at ease. Not completely. He'd been on edge for the last couple days, and he was starting to wonder if he was letting it get away from him. The farther away from the park he was, the more it seemed like his mind had been playing tricks on him. He could have just sworn he'd seen a woman there, small and clad in leather clothing, but a second later she'd just been gone.

Every fiber of his being had screamed at him to get away from there, to get away from her, especially when he was with Dean. Now he had to wonder if maybe he'd just gone and freaked the other guy out.

Well, he'd been invited back to his apartment for dinner, so maybe not. Even if he had screwed up, he supposed he could smooth it over. It had even gotten him an invite to stay over for the night, though Sam did his best not to think of it that way. It made it feel almost like he'd scored more time with Dean out of pity and his self-esteem didn't need a blow like that right now.

Now that he wasn't rushing out of it in embarrassment in a hungover mess, Sam could really look around the place. Pristine, clean and well organized, it felt high class in every way. The entire kitchen was full of stainless steel items, so shiny and clean he was sure he'd be able to see his face in any of them, from the coffee maker to the knife set or fridge. Little plants and pieces of art were placed around the walls and counters, giving it a warm kind of feel. Even the weight lifting chair in the corner looked expensive, the kind you'd find in a high-end gym you paid triple digits to get into every month.

"I guess you do like strength exercises more," Sam murmured to himself as he trailed a finger over one of the handles. He kind of wanted to try it out, see what the weight setting Dean had it on and if he was around the same capabilities.

"You want anything to drink with dinner?" Dean asked as he set the tray up on the low end-table in front of the couch. "I've got a couple bottles of wine. Think an 1892 would be good for a first date?"

Sam couldn't help but blush at the idea. Damn, Dean was beyond just high class. He was a freaking Rembrandt while he himself felt like a doodle a five-year-old stuck on the fridge.

"Uh, sure. Sounds good," he said with a nod. He didn't want to ask for beer. He'd feel like an idiot.

Another part of him had to wonder though, was Dean trying to impress him? Sam didn't know anything about wine, but anything over a hundred years old had to be fancy, right? At the very least it would have been expensive. That seemed like an attempt to impress. The guy had to really like him, right?

He wasn't going to be able to calm down until he tested the theory, so he left the workout equipment alone before he went up to Dean, just as he was reaching for the cork, and laid a hand on his cheek.

"Sam? Is there something you need?" the man asked before Sam trailed his hand down lower, over his neck and to his shoulder. He didn't say anything in response, just pulled him closer before softly kissing him. The action earned him an immediate response, Dean leaving the wine bottle on the counter to cup his cheeks and kiss back. It was chaste and soft, neither pushing to make it more, but it was still amazing. The feeling of fear and anxiety was gently drifting away from him, leaving him to feel at peace and comfortable.

Somehow, Dean just made him feel good in his own skin. It wasn't something he'd been able to have in… well, he wasn't even sure how long.

"Sorry," he breathed once the kiss ended, drawing away as slowly and gently as he'd gone in for it. "Just wanted to do that all of a sudden."

"Don't think you need to apologize for that," Dean said with a little smirk that seemed downright sinful. It made Sam want to go in for another one. The expression was naughty and fun, nothing like the stuffy aura of the Mr. Smith at work.

Underneath all of that, there really did seem to be a guy who could let loose and have fun. Still, he didn't want to press his luck by going for another kiss and making it dirtier. This was going well and he was not going to risk screwing this up. His first time dating a guy so he didn't have any experience to go off of, but a clear boundary of no sex on the first date had been set. He didn't need experience to know that meant he had to be a good boy.

Romance was the order of the night, not lust. And with the way he'd been kissed, how good it had felt, he was honestly okay with that.

"Here. Why don't you get the wine poured, and I'll get a fire going," he offered as he jerked his head to the fireplace.

"Sure. There are fresh logs in there. Only need to turn the gas on first," Dean said.

It had gas? He just thought it was a normal fireplace. Well, what should expect at this point? If he saw anything fancier he was going to think he was dating Bruce Wayne or something.

Okay, that was a dumb thought. The idea of a straight-laced guy like Dean Smith having some secret life as a superhero was dumb as hell.

He bent over the logs, getting it set up. He smiled when he saw they were already split perfectly, and crumpled up some newspaper set aside to catch fire and get it all going before he turned on the gas and held a match up to it. The fire caught immediately, sparking and catching the wood before it began to fill the area with a warm light and heat.

"Reminds me of Dad," he chuckled softly.

"Your dad?" Dean asked curiously.

"Yeah, he used to love camping," Sam told him. "We went every summer, at least twice. He was a former Marine, so he was kind of a man's man type, you know? He used to take Mom and me out all the time. We'd rent RVs, tents, cabins. Every time it was something a little different. He taught me how to skin fish and make fires, and we'd play catch until it was too dark to see."

"Sounds like an awesome dad," he replied.

"He was. He was the best," Sam sighed before shaking his head. "I really miss him."

"He not from around here?" Dean asked.

"Uh… no. He died a few years ago," Sam confessed with a shake of his head. "Car accident. We got hit by a trucker. Crumpled the car up. It was just me that made it."

"Oh… oh, man, I'm sorry," the other man said immediately, horror in his voice. "I didn't mean to-"

"No, no," Sam said quickly with a shake of his head as he moved to sit down on the couch with him. He'd probably overshared there. This wasn't first date conversation. "No, it's fine. It was years ago. It just got me nostalgic for a moment is all. Mom and Dad were great. We were just a completely normal, typical family, kind of boring but I owe them for giving me a happy childhood."

"What was your mom like?" Dean asked.

"She was awesome. Kind of a mess in the kitchen though," Sam laughed. "She bought like all our dinners. Eventually, I learned to cook cause eating the same prepped meatloaf every other night was getting kind of boring. She used to make this great tomato rice soup though. It was the only thing she didn't burn. Still played records in the living room with songs older than I was and she sang me Hey Jude to get me to fall asleep."

"Wish I could meet them," Dean said. "They sound great."

"Wanting to meet the parents already?" Sam laughed as he reached out to the sushi and popped one in his mouth. Oh hell, was that good fish. "What about you? What's your family like?"

"Well, I've got a little sister. She's sweet, in a kind of bratty kind of way," Dean explained. "The kind who thinks she's older and more capable then what she really is. Has a tendency to date the worst guys too. I've had to chase off a couple boyfriends so far. Leather jacket wearing, bike riding punks. You know the type."

Sam didn't, not really, but he had never thought too much about guys in leather jackets before. He could see the appeal though, maybe? They sounded dangerous in a fun way.

"Maybe not marriage material," he admitted, feeling it was a safe statement to make.

"Definitely not. I'm hoping she'll grow out of it and find someone more stable. My mom and dad though, they're the whole salt of the earth types. Worked hard their whole lives to build a future for me and her. They wanted us to go off to college, be successful, have the best of everything, you know?" Dean explained. "I'm already setting up an account so they can retire. I want to give it to them in a couple years. They deserve a nice house on a beach somewhere, enjoying shuffleboard and cruises."

"Wow. You really like the high class things, huh?"

"Well, I work hard for them. Why shouldn't I?" Dean asked. "There's security in a good, well paid for life. I don't want my dad working on junked cars until he's too old to enjoy anything anymore."

"Sound like you're a good son."

"Thanks. I do my best," he replied before he scooted a little closer to him on the couch, leaning his shoulder against Sam's broad frame. The touch caused Sam to freeze up a little, it feeling intimate and familiar against his body.

Should he put an arm around him? Sit still. Put his hand on his knee and gently squeeze or something?

"Jeez, you're tense," Dean laughed. "You look like I'm about to take a bite out of you. You think this was your first date with someone."

"It is," Sam confessed before wincing. That made him sound like some virgin loser. "I mean, it's my first date with a man."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah," he confessed. "I'm straight."

Dean looked confused for a second before understanding dawned on his face, followed quickly by shock and horror. He scooted away before Sam could stop him.

"You're just here because you think you have to be," Dean said, sounding freaked out.

"What?"

"Oh hell! You think I'm forcing you to date me! That if you don't you'll get fired or something!"

Where the hell was all this coming from?! Why was Dean sounding so scared?

"I knew it! I knew I'd fucked up by bringing you here that night! I didn't want anything from you! I don't even know why I did it! I've never brought someone home drunk before, not since college anyway! Look, you don't have to be here, okay? I'm not trying to do anything to you, I swear! This is all a big misunderstanding!"

"Dean, calm down!" Sam said, grabbing the guy and shaking him a little bit. "What the hell are you talking about? I'm here because I asked you out, remember?"

"Only because I brought you here that night we got drunk!"

"Yeah, and you said you wanted to see me again, so I wanted to give it a shot," Sam explained. "You think I'm here because I thought you were blackmailing me or something? That's ridiculous."

"You're straight though," Dean pointed out, and well, Sam had to admit that it was a good point to bring up. That could muddy the waters a little bit.

"Uh, yeah. Well, I don't know. It's weird," he confessed. "I've never looked at another guy. I don't find them hot, like at all. I mean, like I can look at a guy and know they're good looking, but it doesn't do anything for me. You're different though. For some reason, just… uh… I don't know how to say this without sounding stupid."

"Sam, I just started screaming you were only on a date with me because you were scared of me a second ago," Dean replied, his face red. "I think whatever you say, it'll be much better in comparison to my dumb mouth."

"Okay, well… You feel special, Dean," Sam confessed. "I've been nothing but miserable since I got here. I didn't have anyone or anything in my life. I feel like I'm working towards no goal, and I kind of freak out a lot. With you, I feel…"

Dean just looked at him, waiting for him to finish. This felt so corny to say, so stupid.

"I feel like I'm home," he admitted. "I feel happy. Something about you is just comforting and… uh, well… also kind of hot?"

"Kind of hot?" he asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Ugh. I know it sounds dumb when I say it like that," he groaned out. "But I've seen porn before. I know what another naked guy looks like, and it doesn't do anything for me. I've always focused on the girl. But uh… well, with you I can… I can… uh… What are you doing?"

Dean's hand had laid out on his inner thigh, stroking the skin exposed by his shorts. His palm felt warm and firm against his leg, and his already unsure words were dying in his throat.

"Testing your reaction time when I strike your knee. What do you think?" Dean asked with a chuckle. "I want to know if this is turning you on."

"W-why?" Sam croaked.

"Well, Sam you're a nice guy and all, but I'm not sure there's much to do here if there's no physical attraction. I'd like to know if this should be a friendship thing, which is fine, or if this is going to go anywhere down the line."

"I thought you said no sex tonight. Uh, first date," he said before Dean's hand went a little higher and slipped under the leg of Sam's shorts, making him gasp and buck as Dean tickled his skin.

"We're not going to have sex," Dean told him. "But we can fool around a little."

Sam's restraint was straining by a leash, and he had to squeeze the couch's leather to keep himself from pouncing the guy. This was unreal, how bold the man had gotten all of a sudden. He'd been terrified he was forcing something on Sam a second ago, but now that he had the green light it felt like he was going to play with him all night if allowed. The touch wasn't enough, and not nearly high enough. Sam wanted more, but he wasn't sure if it was okay to ask for it.

"D-Dean," he gasped when he felt teeth on his ear, gently nibbling before a tongue swept up the shell of flesh. "Fuck… oh fuck..."

"I said no fucking tonight, Sammy," Dean purred in his ear. Something about the way he said his name sent a jolt straight from his brain to his cock. Oh, he was definitely attracted to the other man, that was for sure. When his hand slipped out of his shorts and into the waistband and lower, he knew Dean had to have figured it out too.

"Oh… oh hello," Dean said, palming him. His touch was too slow, curious and exploring. It made him want to scream out for more. "With your height I was figuring you were kind of big, but this is a nice surprise, even for me."

How could he talk so casually right now? Sam felt like he was dying here! His hips shifted before he was gripped a little firmer and Dean began to move his hand along him in sweeping motions, taking his time but giving Sam what he needed too. Fuck, he was so gentle. He couldn't take it. He needed more! Still, he found his voice was lost as he felt kisses move along his throat, tenderness being poured over him as his date pampered him with affection.

"I've got you, Sammy. Just relax," Dean whispered to him. "I'll take care of you."

Something inside of Sam snapped just then. No, this wasn't how it was going to go. Dean shouldn't be the one taking care of him, not this time. He wanted to do that for him, to show him the best possible time he could have. He was no slouch in sex, and for all of Dean's nice things, for his fancy fireplace and college background and money to pay for a shuffleboard for his parents, Sam still had one thing he could be proud of.

He was not going to be shown up in sex, first time with a man or not.

He grabbed Dean and yanked him into his lap, ignoring his yelp of surprise when he yanked his head close enough to kiss him. For a brief second there wasn't a response, probably too shocked by the sudden change of position. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, to shove his tongue into Dean's mouth to set the pace at rough and brutal. He was in charge now, and he was going to show him just how badly he'd been tempting fate by playing around with someone so dangerous.

Rough didn't seem to be what Dean was used to, but a hot groan escaped him and assured Sam that this was getting him turned on. He let himself get more bold, grabbing a handful of Dean's ass and roughly squeezing him, the flesh soft and pliant under his grip. His tongue almost felt timid against his own as he kissed him just as fiercely, setting the pace without giving him a second to adjust.

"No Dean. I'm going to take care of you," he hissed before he bit his lip, feeling the plumpness of his lip. While Dean did wince, he didn't protest. In fact, he was starting to kiss back desperately as his hands grabbed onto Sam's tank top and yanked at it a bit. "Heh. No. No sex, remember?"

"Damn it. That's not fair," Dean snapped before he jumped, Sam's hand slapping his behind hard. "Dude!"

"No sex," he hissed to him darkly. "Your rules, but I'm still going to wreck you."

The man in his lap had a mixed expression, seeming both intimidated but oddly eager. Sam was willing to put down money he'd never had rough sex before, never just been taken and ravaged. Sam could enjoy soft sex, and he was more than willing to let Dean do whatever he liked next time, but right now he wanted to be in charge. He wanted to show Dean he could treat him right and make him moan out while begging for more.

"I want to do this for you," he panted out, pulling him closer so their laps were pressed tightly against each other, only his jogging pants and Sam's shorts between them. The thin pieces of material weren't enough to keep the heat from seeping between them, so hot it was like they'd both burn up for it. "I can treat you so fucking good, Dean. Just let me show you."

Dean's cheeks were dusty pink, his eyes half-lidded, and he nodded his head without hesitation, clearly willing to see where this could go. It made Sam want to roar in triumph, knowing he had him now. He was going to make him see stars, to get him so high on this he'd want Sam around forever.

First date or not, Sam was desperate to be kept forever. He wasn't trying to control Dean, not exactly. He just wanted him to get so hot from this, to see Sam's value, low as it was right now, there was still something there worth wanting. He already knew he didn't want to let Dean go, and he'd offer all he had to convince the other man to let him stay in his life.

He pushed his fingers against Dean's mouth, and without even being told lips parted for the digits, allowing them to be pushed in. It was too sexy a sight to see the man blushing as he sucked on three of Sam's fingers, perfectly obedient to his will. His cheeks were a dusty pink, lips a little swollen while closed around them. It was better than any adult film he'd ever seen. Ian had been wrong. This guy wasn't a screamer, but he was definitely a minx in bed all the same. Even the tongue flitting over his fingers, working him over spoke of plenty of experience, and Sam could only imagine how many people had enjoyed that tongue before.

He wasn't jealous, actually liked the idea of Dean knowing so much, being such an expert at this, but it also made him want to be the last person Dean ever slept with too. He wanted to own Dean and to be owned by him at the same time. There was no one else for him, at least, that's what his crazy brain was telling him. It really was stupid to think such things on a first date, but when the man mewled… literally fucking mewled when Sam drew his hand away, chasing it wantonly, he knew it was completely true.

"You're mine," he hissed as he gripped his hips, forcing Dean to rub against him. The man only moaned again, pressing close to him and whining in his ear. "Say it, Dean!"

"I'm yours," Dean panted out, squirming as Sam slipped a hand down his pants and pushed a finger inside of him, hissing at the intrusion but pushing back against it to get more.

"Louder, Dean."

"S-Sam, I..." he gasped, shaking his head a little. "Please, this is..."

"Want more?" Sam asked, to which he nodded his head. "Then say it. Scream out how much you want it."

He wasn't sure why Dean was trying to hold out. Maybe he didn't want to appear too eager. Maybe he wanted it to last, but Sam was getting impatient. He wasn't going to rest until he got what he wanted. He pushed deeper, harder into him and Dean jumped with a moan, rubbing himself frantically into him. Sam could understand. He needed the friction too, as desperately as he needed air, but he also needed to hear Dean say it. He wanted Dean to crave him, crave this just as badly. As rough as he was being, emotionally he needed a safety net here, to know he wasn't the only one feeling so strongly about all of this.

"Dean," he hissed in his eager, slipping in another wet finger and working him hard and fast. "Just give in."

Dean looked down at him before kissing him. Unlike the rest of the movement, it was soft and tender, even loving. It took Sam completely off guard, so much so he felt his body betray him and break. Soft lips, tenderly pressed against his own, even in this rough treatment… It was like finding a rose in the swarm of thorny vines, and it tore at him even worse.

He sat there, dazed and panting, his pants wet from the orgasm that had hit him, not even noticing for a few minutes that he hadn't been the only one. He honestly didn't know if he'd won or lost that bought of sex, because fully clothed or not, their skin never even touching one another, that had been sex damn it.

"I'm yours, Sammy," Dean assured him before kissing him again, a smile on his lips. "But I won that round."

Sam Wesson was pretty sure in the end Dean was right and he'd been the one to give in, yet he still felt like he'd won. It was a confusing feeling, but somehow it was still a great one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam's and Dean's way to have sex is so different, being wild and then gentle respectively. Sam is always so rough, whereas Dean is very giving and sweet in bed. Oddly enough, despite that Sam is the one who gets very emotional about his relationships while Dean seems to avoid sticky feelings at all costs. It's an interesting paradox that is kind of fun to explore.
> 
> So yep. Enjoy that.


	7. Excruciating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, another chapter so soon. I almost feel like I should be a bit guilty for working on this one so much. I'm not even progressing in my other stories but you got to follow your muse, am I right? If I'm feeling inspired for this story then it's the one that I should work on. At least that's how it feels. Well, I'm sure you lovely readers are enjoying the fruits of my labor, so I won't feel too badly about it.

_The cave_ _was dusty and dry inside, the air_ _that was_ _trapped within the rocky walls_ _being_ _thick and hard to breathe. Even if Sam hadn't fallen through the cave and slammed against stone on his way down, he was sure he'd be uncomfortable and stiff here. The only fresh smell was of blood and gore, wet and sickly as it hung in the air. Once a long time ago, Sam had been used to the smell, all around it in his late childhood and teen years, but it had been a long while now since he'd hunted and he was no longer used to the way the reek could crawl into the back of your throat to try and choke you._

_He_ _saw Dean up ahead and scrambled to get to him, tied with rope that was halfway to rotting, but still strong enough to hold him in place. He didn't look in good shape, and the only thought in_ _Sam'_ _s head was getting him down, getting him out of this cave and to safety. All this had happened because of him, because he'd wanted so badly to go on this hunt to try and find Dad, to end this once and for all. Now he was going to lose Dean too, all in his anger to avenge losing Jessica._

_He couldn't lose him. He couldn't be alone in this. Why had he not listened to Dean when he'd told him to calm down?_

_Just cutting him down didn't help Sam feel better. The other hunter was covered in muck and badly banged up, looking like he could barely move, but they had no choice. There was a small window to escape and fighting their way out with three civilians_ _relying on them for protection was going to make it damn near impossible. True enough, no sooner_ _had_ _they gotten moving_ _that they hear_ _d_ _the growling, the sure sign_ _that_ _the monster was coming back. He didn't like it at all to see Dean head off with a cocky wink, even covered in bruises and in clear pain, he began shouting and carrying on to attract the creature's attention in order to give Sam time to get the others out and to safety, and to get Sam to safety as well._

_Even when Sam tried to rescue Dean, the other always ended up saving him instead. It only made his guilt dig into his stomach even deeper._

Sam woke with a sudden jolt, for a second not knowing where he was. Fear gripped him as he sat up, looking around himself wildly. Darkness hit his eyes and for a moment he thought he was still in the cave, still desperate to get away from the thing in the darkness that wanted to eat him. It wasn't until his eyes adjusted to the darkness did he feel himself calm down and begin to collect himself.

Another nightmare. They were starting to get closer together. Then again, he was used to bad dreams. Was he? It seemed like something he had to deal with a lot… but at the same time… Ugh, he was too groggy to think straight right now.

He was still on the couch in the upscale apartment he'd been invited to stay at, a blanket tangled up in his legs and a pillow knocked off to the side from when he'd woken up so suddenly. Though there was a huge window for one of the walls, there wasn't much light. It still had to be late, or possibly early. He really couldn't tell, and he didn't want to go searching for his watch or phone to figure it out. Instead he swung his legs off the couch and rubbed at his face.

Staying in the bed with Dean would have been a whole lot more comfortable, but they'd both agreed if they slept in the same place it was going to be impossible to keep their hands off one another. It would have been fine otherwise, but they did have work in the morning with an early start. Staying up until God knows when in order to touch one another would not have been smart in the long run. So he had stayed on the couch, sleeping in another room entirely to ensure they would both be able to get a proper amount of rest.

Dean's couch sucked though. It looked comfortable, plush and soft, and it had been cozy enough to sit on while they'd made out the night before, it wasn't feeling so hot now. After dinner and the wine, they'd both cleaned up and hunkered down to get some sleep. Now Sam was feeling an ache in his back, maybe a pinched nerve from sleeping on it instead of in a bed.

Actually, it wasn't just his back. He hurt all over. His gut felt like it was going to try and turn itself inside out any moment, and his damn head was aching again! Damn it, he could not be hungover. He'd only had a glass or two of wine. That would not be enough to be doing this to him. He knew his limits and that wasn't even enough to get him tipsy. Breathing deeply, he shook his head and forced himself to get up off of the couch, even as he wobbled a bit. Taking a moment to allow himself to steady, he made his way to the kitchen. His throat was burning with the taste of bile, and he was so hot he felt like he would quickly drench his clothes in sweat if he didn't cool off soon.

Some water would do him good, and he looked through three different cupboards until he found a glass and went over to the sink. Gulping down the first one did nothing for him, so he went for a second, and at the third was drinking it so fast he accidentally choked on the liquid and spat it back up into the sink. Gasping hard and clinging to the counter so as not to slip off of it and fall over, he wondered if he was going to throw up. Please, if there was any mercy in this world, let him keep his dinner down. He wouldn't be able to bear it if he went and vomited right after a date in his new partner's place.

They weren't even at the level of boyfriends yet, at least he didn't think they were. It would probably take a few more dates out and actual lovemaking to concrete that change of status. Still, he knew losing the contents of his stomach all over the sink or floor of the kitchen would do little to endear himself to the white-collar worker.

Running away like a bat out of hell in the park from a potential criminal only he had seen had been bad enough. He was sure anything else would push Sam right into the dumping zone.

"It's been nice, Sam. Really, it has been but you and I are not going to work out. Have a nice life, okay?"

Yeah, he could already hear it in his head. So no throwing up, and if he did, then he really needed to make it to the toilet first.

Splashing some water from the still running faucet onto his face, he felt himself cool off a little, but it did nothing for the pain. His nerves were on fire, in agony all over. If he had gotten sick, then it had hit him very fast while he'd been sleeping. He barely felt like he had the strength to stand, and his steps back over to the couch were shaky and uncertain.

He grabbed his watch when he'd made it, pushing a button to light it up. It showed the time was almost four in the morning, way too early to be up. Still, maybe he should be grateful. If he had slept longer and had woken up like this around five or so, he'd be screwed. He really didn't want Dean to see him like this, knowing that it wasn't going to be attractive.

First order of business, some pain killers. If memory served him correctly, there was some in the bathroom. Probably the medicine cabinet. Maybe he could sneak in and take some. Was Dean a light sleeper though? Would he hear him?

He supposed there was nothing to do about it if he did. Besides, he needed to clean up. He was so sweaty that he really needed a shower, and maybe the hot water would be enough to ease away some of the pain. It was the best solution he could come up with, besides just laying back out on the couch and allowing himself to die.

And if being sick was going to get him dumped, then he was sure Dean walking in on his corpse stretched out on his furniture would certainly do the trick and get him kicked to the proverbial curbside. So yeah, he really didn't have much of a choice. Lesser of two risks.

He sneaked up to the bedroom door and gently turned the handle, pushing it open slowly and feeling grateful that it did not creak at all. Walking slowly and quietly, he was able to reach the bathroom without Dean so much as twitching from where he was in the bed, sleeping soundly. Sam felt rather jealous of him at that moment, able to dream so peacefully without anything in his mind to bother him in the slightest.

He wasn't sure himself why he'd dreamed of the other man, and why it had been such an unpleasant one. If he was going to dream about the guy, he'd rather it be something fun and naughty, not a nightmare where he'd felt like he was about to lose him. Where had that even come from anyway? No doubt Sam's own fear of screwing up so badly that he chased away another person he cared about, tossed out just like what had happened with his fiance. It's not like guilt and fear of losing someone couldn't form into some seriously screwed up nighttime imaginings. It seemed as if now that he'd felt something so good and wonderful with Dean, the paranoia about being parted from him was driving around full force in his subconscious. Not exactly a pleasant idea, but at least it explained it.

Sam swallowed down the pills with as little water as possible this time, not wanting a repeat of before from drinking too much too fast. Then he grabbed a towel and hopped into the shower, turning it on to spray as hot as he could stand it. He hissed from the heat as it hit his skin, but the relief was immediate. Either the pain was finally receding and he couldn't feel it anymore or the scalding water was so intense he could only focus on that now. It didn't honestly matter to him, as long as the sensation of feeling like absolute garbage finally left him.

Running the bar of soap over his body, he took his time with it. The stuff smelled nice and lathered easily, covering his skin in soft bubbles as the spray continued to cascade down over his skin. He dove his fingers into every cranny and joint, hands smoothing over his muscles to make sure everyone was squeaky clean. He saw to his hair next, grabbing a shampoo that had a French brand name he had never even heard of, and poured a generous amount into his hair. A guttural moan slipped out of him without meaning too, the little grainy and pebble-like materials inside of the shampoo making it easy for him to scrub a pleasant scratching sensation into his scalp, his long fingers digging into his locks and smoothing down over his head.

"You really are eager for it, aren't you?"

Sam jumped a little at the voice, so lost in his own world he hadn't even heard the glass door of the stall open. An amused Dean was standing there, eyeing him up and down, a satisfied little smirk on his lips. Not seeming to care about the water that was getting all over the floor from the open stall, he leaned against the glass and let himself look at the man covered in suds and a blush so bright it would put the sun to shame.

"Dean, I… I woke up early and..."

"And decided to reenact those sexy shampoo commercials that were so common in the nineties? You know the ones with the girls moaning and shaking their hair around all dripping wet, going 'Yes! Yes! Yes!' Cause I got to say, it works for you," he stated, still seemingly amused by the sight. It made Sam flush, more than a little embarrassed.

"Shut up, man," he groaned.

"You know, I used to really love those as a teenager. Recorded them just for private time," the man informed him. "Mind if I get the camcorder?"

Sam really, really liked this guy but he was feeling the oddest urge to deck him right in the face right now. He didn't even care if the action would get him kicked out of the apartment, naked and dripping wet. The jerk was totally asking for it.

"Look, I'll get out if you want me to. I was just trying to clean up," he said, but Dean only shook his head.

"Nah, take your time. It's cool. I'll get breakfast going for… wait a minute. What's that?" he asked. He was still staring, but it was more in confusion than amusement this time.

"What's what?" he asked before Dean was climbing into the shower with him, not seeming to care about his shirt and sleeping shorts that he was still wearing under the cascading spray of water and steam. All of a sudden he was within inches of Sam, who really didn't know what to do. Was he wanting to go again? Not that he didn't like the idea, but he wasn't sure his body was up to it. Besides, he might be contagious, and he didn't want to risk the other man getting sick too.

However, all that he did was lay a hand on Sam's slick chest, wiping away the water and soapy bubbles. The tattoo on his chest was exposed now, having been mostly hidden while he was lathering down his body.

"Uh, Dean, what are you doing?" he asked.

"Where did you get this?" Dean asked him in response.

"My tattoo? I… I got it slapped on about two years ago. Old girlfriend liked ink but I didn't want to get covered in them. I figured somewhere easy to hide would be a good compromise. Why? Do you not like them or something?"

"Like them? No, that's not it. I… I got this one too."

"What?"

Dean didn't bother to say anything more. Instead, he just pulled his shirt off to show him. Sure enough, the exact same one was on his chest, and Sam had to admit, the sight of it floored him. The same size, the same shade of black, even the exact same spot on the chest just a little off from where the heart would be. It was more than a little shocking that a guy like Dean, who seemed so fancy would even have a tattoo, and even as off as Sam felt both physically and mentally right now, it was kind of hot.

Not hot enough that it distracted him from his confusion though.

"Where did you get that?" Sam asked him in disarray.

"Oh, this was in college. I honestly don't even remember it. I got drunk at the time," Dean confessed with a bit of a cough. "Seems I keep ending up with interesting things when I drink too much, huh?"

"Uh… yeah, I'd say so," Sam breathed. It was a weird coincidence, it really was. He supposed it was possible though. He hadn't been the one to pick out his design, and it sounded like a trashed Dean had chosen one at random. Maybe it was a common pattern to wear on the skin? He didn't really go into enough parlors to know what was popular or widely available. It seemed to have certainly caught Dean's attention though, considering he was still standing in the shower half-dressed and staring at it like he expected the little picture to suddenly do a trick. "Um, Dean, we're starting to flood the bathroom."

"Huh?" Dean asked before he looked around. "Oh, for the love of… Right. I'll just let you finish up. Sorry for interrupting. I'll just-"

Sam cut him off by just reaching behind him to slide the stall door shut and put a finger to Dean's lips.

"You're already in here. Let me wash your back," he offered, gripping his shorts and pulling them down easily, tossing them aside to the corner of the tiled floor with a wet plop. "Why leave? You're already soaked."

Besides, it felt pleasant when Dean stared at him, and he had a feeling if it was going to happen anyway then he might as well enjoy it.

"That is still so weird, us having the same ink on our chests," the man murmured as Sam grabbed the soap. He was still worried about getting him sick, and he probably should be careful, but as long as he got Dean good and clean would there really be any trouble? Nah, he was sure it would be fine. "Funny coincidence."

"Totally funny," he agreed, but his brain was already too full of bad dreams, figures in the dark, and pain to give it much thought. He probably should, but his plate had long since gotten full and his time with Dean made it feel better anyway. He'd much rather focus on the one in front of him than the strange little oddities in his life right now, both sever and mundane. "Turn around and let me get your back."

Dean opened his mouth to argue before just sighing and doing as he was asked. Sam was glad for it. He'd much rather spend his effort on this than anything else that had happened this morning. Besides, focusing on washing up his partner, it was actually soothing his pain somewhat. Strange as it was, he'd take what reprieve from it that he could.

Though that was a stupid thought. It had to just be the pills finally kicking in or the water at last easing his muscles. His partner was great, but it's not like there was much stock in the magical healing power of love and companionship or anything like that. Best to leave those little silly fantasies to his dreams where they belonged. Yet, he still didn't want him to leave and he was willing to use any excuse that he could to prevent it.

* * *

The tech employee didn't call off sick, as much as he wanted to. It was still way too early for him to even consider such a possibility, much as he would have liked to. As if he was going to risk trouble before his probationary period was even over with. Besides, he was sure it would just make him look lazy, calling off because he felt like having freedom. On top of all that, he really did need to work the extra hours for a good paycheck. There was no angle he could look at this from that would enjoy him slacking off, even if he did feel ready to crash.

Dean had made him a smoothie along with some soft boiled eggs and toast. It was mild enough that he had to wonder if the man could tell he wasn't feeling well and was trying to give him something that would settle easily on his stomach. It wasn't until he had been sitting at his cubicle for a while, having come in early again while riding in with Dean, did he get his answer.

"Man, it looks like you got involved in a thirteen hooker gang bang or something," Ian said the second he approached the work area and saw Sam. "The hell happened to you?"

Still holding the plastic bottle with the strawberry and banana smoothie in his hand, he could only sigh in response before taking another sip of the drink that was already halfway gone. It was as good an excuse as any not to have to say anything.

"Did you get any sleep? You're like a zombie."

"Rough night," he admitted, knowing he had to say something in order to get his coworker to stop bugging him. Everything in the office building seemed a little too loud right now and he wanted nothing more than to slap his headphones on and pretend to take calls while not doing a damn thing, all just for the quiet. "Bad dreams."

"Oh?" Ian asked curiously.

Shouldn't the guy be working? The normal work hours had already started, but the skinny man seemed more interested in hanging out around Sam's cubicle and bugging him. Maybe just engaging in some small talk would speed this along.

"I was… Okay, this is going to sound weird, but I was going up against a wendigo," he said.

"A what?"

"A wendigo. You know, it's a Native American monster? Well, actually a spirit or something. I think there are different versions about whether it's a physical creature or a spirit that invades someone," he admitted. "I'm not entirely sure though."

"Don't think I've heard of one," Ian replied. "And you were fighting one?"

Well, more like running away from it while fearing for his new lover's life, but there was no reason to go into that kind of detail.

"Yeah, I was fighting it," he lied. "They come about from a starving man or woman, usually up in the mountains, giving in and partaking in cannibalism. They spend the rest of their existence trying to stave off their hunger by eating human beings."

"Oh wow. That sounds nasty," Ian snickered. "I didn't know you were into old American mythology."

Sam hadn't thought he was either. He wasn't even sure where he knew the story from. Maybe his dad had told him about it once when they'd been camping, a scary ghost story around the fire perhaps. He supposed he could remember the story without remembering just where he had heard it. Memories were funny like that.

"You have dreams like that a lot?" the man asked him, clearly interested, but Sam just spun his wheel around and began to ignore him. He'd only told him to get the conversation to stop, not invite more talking. "Really? You're going to tell me something that juicy and interesting and then just shut down on me? Lame."

"We got work to do, Ian."

"Right, right. Fine," he replied before he went to his own cubicle and started to type away at his computer and answer calls.

Sam himself felt like he'd be happy to face down a wendigo in real life if it didn't mean having to take calls or deal with the drudgery of his work. Every person walking behind him with footfalls too heavy, every paper spitting out from the copying machine, every pencil being sharpened or button being pressed all felt too loud to him. It was giving him a migraine.

God, why wouldn't the pain just stop?!

He glanced up at the clock, dismayed when he saw barely any time had passed at all, crawling by. This was going to be a long day, and he was going to need to down a lot more medication if he was going to get through it. Burring his face in his hands, he breathed deep and tried to focus. Maybe at lunchtime he could take a quick nap. There might be more bad dreams waiting for him, but at least it would be better than this horrible ache in his bones.

He missed Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh. Things don't look like they're doing so well for poor Sam. What could be the problem?


	8. Office Assistance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mystery continues. Is everything okay with Sam? Will he be alright? Is Dean going to notice that anything is off with his new lover? Find out… right now!

It occurred to Dean that during his lunch break, he had a free hour to see Sam. It wasn't the productive pattern he normally took, usually just eating a salad while continuing to look over emails that he might need to catch up on, but he supposed he could give himself one little lazy day. He'd gotten his big projects out of the way for now and there wouldn't be another one coming for a couple days or so he was sure. So when noon came around, he looked up the paging number specifically for Wesson's desk and punched it into his phone.

"Tech support. This is Sam Wesson," came the reply from the most dead and worn out tone he had ever heard.

"Sam? Jeez, you okay?" Dean asked immediately.

"Huh?" He heard the twisting of his chair, maybe to see if anyone was listening before replying. "Dean, is that you?"

"Yeah. It's my lunch break in about ten minutes. That leaves me free for an hour. I thought you might want to come up and eat with me," he informed him.

It could potentially sound needy but he wasn't all that concerned with that kind of thing much now. Given some of the things they had done he was out of the mindset of, "Oh god, anything I do wrong is going to get me slapped with a sexual harassment claim," and more in the honeymoon phase he was feeling more relaxed about all of this. He didn't have any qualm about admitting that he wanted to see his lover as soon as possible.

"Uh, yeah sure. Give me a few minutes and I'll head up there," Sam stated.

He felt a little disappointed that the answer for lunch wasn't more enthusiastic, but they were at work. It's not like they could play footsie with one another here. It wouldn't be professional in the slightest. Sam didn't have the advantage of a private office like he did and thus just couldn't say whatever he wanted in the given situation. He probably had to keep it sounding like he was just handling another call so as not to cause any issues.

Not that there was anything wrong with what they were doing. Eating lunch together in his office was fine, no rules could be broken there.

He knew. He'd specifically checked about the policy against fraternization at least a couple times during all of this. With Sam not being in his department of sales, they were both easily in the clear. As long as they didn't fool around in the building it was perfectly allowed for them to date and see one another. Eating a meal on their break was easily within the rules.

Still, it would be best if it wasn't spread around so soon that they'd decided to make this a thing between the two of them. They wouldn't be able to make a habit out of this, but Dean was still floating around on the high of finding a nice guy who really liked him and was fantastic in the sack. It was getting him a bit giddy and he really just wanted to be around him.

To think he'd been terrified of the mere idea of Sam Wesson just a short while ago. What could he say? He was a romantic at heart, liked the little fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach that came with a new relationship and how new everything could feel. Maybe he was being a little greedy right now to want to see him again so soon but he didn't honestly care.

It didn't take long for the other man to reach his office, closing the door behind him, but when he did Dean forgot all about any possible romantic moments between them for the next hour.

"You look like hell," he said immediately at the sight of him. He had bags under his eyes and looked green around the gills. Had the smoothie he'd given him been bad? Dean was sure he had checked the date on the yogurt he'd put in it, and Sam would have surely told him if he'd had any allergies.

"Yeah, didn't sleep well," the taller man replied.

It looked like more than just a lack of sleep was affecting him, but he didn't feel it would be polite to say so.

"Maybe you should take a nap," he offered instead. "It might help you feel better."

He remembered Sam mentioning how his finances were in the red right now and needed the extra hours. It would explain why he hadn't called in sick, because he clearly didn't look like he should be on the clock right now. They were nowhere near an appropriate place where Dean could just hand over some funds and tell him to go and get some rest though so he had to try to help out in another way. The little fantasy of them spending the next hour together to flirt and talk to one another went up in smoke as he looked up at him from his desk and fought the urge to tell him just to go home.

The disadvantage of not being his boss. He couldn't just order him around like that either.

"It might help to sleep more, yeah," Sam agreed as he sat down and pulled out his lunch. Dean had made a salad for both of them, and the man ate his in under five minutes before settling down in the chair, resting his chin on his fist and began to doze off.

Oh well. It looked like Dean was going to be reading emails after all.

It was about halfway through the break when he noticed Sam was not exactly sleeping soundly. He kept jerking around every once in a while, talking in his sleep. It wasn't anything he could hear, little murmurs escaping barely parted lips. He wouldn't have even heard it if the room wasn't otherwise silent. The sound seemed a little distressed though, and from the expression on Sam's sleeping face, he was not having a good dream.

He didn't even have to think about it to get up, walk around his desk and gently shake him to rouse him from his rest. Sam sprung awake immediately, gasping loudly as he looked around as if he didn't remember where he even was.

"Whoa. Hey, buddy," Dean reassured him, kneeling down a little to meet him eye to eye. "It's okay. It was just a dream."

"Dean?" Sam asked, sounding utterly confused.

"Yeah. Just me," he informed him, but it didn't have the reaction that he was expecting in the slightest, Sam suddenly standing up and grabbing him, yanking him up and pushing him against the wall. "H-hey. Sam, what are you doing?"

The question came out as a little frantic because the other man was suddenly and very determinedly tugging Dean's tie off and unbuttoning his shirt. Something inside of him told him that he should protest this, knowing the only way he'd been able to justify the break together was that he had told himself nothing inappropriate was going to happen between them. On the other hand, the fierce look in Sam's eyes did things to him that would only be appropriate to admit to in a letter to Hustler.

"We should lock the door," he hissed out.

"Why?" Sam asked him.

Oh hell. Did the risk of getting caught turn him on? That might be a bit much for him. Before he could get around to explaining that he really liked his job and he didn't want to risk losing it after getting it so recently, Sam pulled his shirt open and tugged one side down to expose his left shoulder.

Then he just stopped, looking at his skin with a perplexed look on his face.

Not… not exactly the sexiest reaction he had seen, to be perfectly honest.

"What is this?" Sam breathed, staring at the mark on his shoulder. Oh yeah, he supposed that would have gotten an odd reaction from just about anyone, the birthmark he had in the shape of a hand. It had caused pause with a couple of people he'd slept with, the slightly pinkish tan color offset from his skin and looking for all the world like a handprint.

"A birthmark. I know, weird right?" he asked. "You didn't notice it in the shower? Guess there was a lot of steam."

"I… I dreamed… maybe I did notice it… out of the corner of my eye..." he said, sounding utterly confused and unsure of himself.

"Sam, you seem pretty out of it. Maybe you should get some more rest," he suggested, but Sam only shook his head.

He felt like he should point out this really was going to look bad if the door opened, but the words died in his throat when he felt Sam's large hand trace over the mark and rest his palm over it. It caused a lurch in him that he wasn't expecting, the feeling oddly arousing in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't even remember how many times this thing had been touched, usually during an intimate moment, but for some reason Sam doing it caused fire to lick inside of his belly and make his knees feel weak.

"Sam..." he breathed out. "For fuck's sake… the door..."

He looked at him intently, the request seeming to confuse him for a moment before he flushed and pulled his hand away. Was he just NOW getting how this might look? Son of a bitch, this guy. Way too sexy by a mile and didn't even seem to realize it half the time.

"S-sorry. I just… I was dreaming and you..." Sam tried to say before stalling out and realizing he was stumbling over his own explanation.

"You were dreaming about me?" he asked with an arched eyebrow. He might have taken it as a compliment if it hadn't been completely obvious that what he'd been having had been a nightmare. Not exactly sexy dreaming. Unless Sam looked like that when he had naughty dreams? Nah, that really had not been a nap that he'd been enjoying, that was for sure.

"I… I don't know. Maybe," he replied with a shake of his head. "Sorry. I think I'm just really tired right now. Don't think your couch agreed with me."

"That your way of telling me you want to share the bed next time?" Dean asked him as he buttoned up his shirt again and pulled his tie back on, his fingers deftly tying it back in place perfectly, the action so well practiced that it was second nature to him. He couldn't help but notice Sam was still staring at him as he did so, and if they hadn't spent last night having so much fun together he might have found it a little creepy and unnerving.

"No, I didn't mean it like that. I mean, I do want us to share a bed, but I'm not trying to coerce you or anything. That couch just really didn't feel good on my back."

He found that hard to believe. That thing felt like pillows from Heaven it was so comfortable, but there was no arguing with the way his partner looked like he'd had the roughest night of his life. He still looked worse than what the lack of sleep would do to a person too, the little nap not looking like it had helped him at all.

"You're alright with dairy, right?" he asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"No reason," he replied, secretly glad Sam hadn't drunk the smoothie when it would upset his stomach just to make Dean happy. People fresh into relationships sometimes did stupid things not to upset their new partner, like failing to mention they were lactose-intolerant to someone making them a treat with yogurt and milk in it. At least he didn't have that to worry about.

"I should head back," Sam said, looking a little shifty. They still had a good twenty-five minutes or so, but he wasn't about to make him stay if he wanted to head out. Then again, maybe he only felt like he had to because he had been acting weird. Grabbing someone to look at their shoulder wasn't exactly normal behavior.

Then again, Dean was starting to learn very quickly that nothing, absolutely nothing about Sam Wesson screamed normal. Not one thing.

He couldn't say that he honestly minded though.

Just as he was about to head out, Dean reached out from behind him, wrapping both arms around him and gently pushed the door shut as Sam opened it. He clicked the lock closed and pressed up close behind him. The warm sensation in his loins hadn't quite cooled just yet, and he didn't want to lose the company if he didn't have to.

"Stay," he ordered softly, his breath tickling the back of Sam's neck. He was rewarded by feeling him shudder in his arms, his strong frame rippling underneath of his touch.

"Dean," Sam hissed out.

"I can make you feel better, baby. You're clearly in need of a pick me up," he reasoned. "If you don't want to then I'll let you go."

"We… we don't have that long," he breathed in response. Oh good, this was affecting him. For a second he'd been worried fooling around in the office might not do it for him.

"All I need is five minutes," he reassured him.

Apparently Sam liked the idea of the challenge so he turned around and leaned against the door. The same fire that was burning inside of Dean seemed to be inside of Sam too, reflected in his intense gaze before the office worker leaned in and kissed him.

This seemed to happen so easily, his fears and worries about what was proper just evaporating around the man. His no sex on the first date rule, the idea they weren't going to fool around but just have a nice lunch together because work wasn't the place for this kind of thing, it didn't seem to matter. Sam didn't just silently encourage him to break the rules with his presence alone, he took a hammer to the entirety of the whole concept. He wanted to be fun and naughty around him, to show Sam what a real good time could feel like.

"No noise," he whispered when they parted, giving Sam's lips one last little lick to promise him what kind of fun he could look forward to if he followed the rule. That one was sadly important and they could not afford to break it. It's not like the office was soundproof or anything and if they got caught it would easily mean both of their jobs whether they were in separate departments or not.

It seemed that he agreed though because he quickly nodded his head, cueing Dean to get started. His hands trailed over Sam's fully clothed body as he sunk down to his knees, promising him without a word a very good time.

The zipper and belt went first, quickly gotten out of the way so that the man could get to his prize. He licked his lips before pulling out Sam's member, flaccid for now but wouldn't be for long. His tongue moved over it, leaving wet streaks along the skin as he dragged it over him. The reaction was damn near instantaneous, his cock hardening and growing in his hand as it stiffened.

"D-Dean," he gasped out.

"Shh. Not a word. Just enjoy it," he instructed him with a wink before without an ounce of shame took the whole cock in his mouth and sucked hard. He heard a sharp intake of breath but nothing else. Hm, seemed he was good at taking orders after all. That might be something to play with later.

He worked quickly and eagerly, slurping over Sam's member as if it was the best tasting thing in the world. Honestly, it kind of was. Sam had clearly cleaned himself up well this morning while washing, and it left him with all the more reason to taste every little bit of him. His mouth bobbed up and down over the turgid flesh, swallowing down on it to tighten his throat around the large dick. This wasn't about teasing him or making him whine, he wanted it fast and filthy, to blow his partner's mind and making him cum so fast his head would spin.

Thick fingers grasped the back of his head and before he knew it he'd lost the pace as Sam suddenly slammed into his mouth. He couldn't move with the firm grip on him, holding him in place as the man literally fucked his mouth. It shocked him but he didn't try to stop him, only moaning over the thick cock down his throat, luckily muffling the noises. It was a good thing he'd closed the blinds on the glass by the door before he'd even called Sam up to his office, knowing if someone happened to walk by there would be no way to explain the sight of him on his knees and getting his face fucked like a cheap whore by a very sexually aggressive tech support employee.

Sam growled, literally growled as he tensed and emptied his seed into his mouth. Dean was a little annoyed that he didn't get any warning before it flooded into his mouth and he groaned deeply as he struggled to swallow it all. Still, it felt so damn good he couldn't find it in himself to even consider complaining. On his knees and with swollen lips, he looked up at Sam and found himself wishing they had more time for another round. He wanted nothing more than to roll over on his hands and knees and present himself like a bitch so that the other man could claim him right there on the floor.

Sadly, it was going to have to wait. The lunch break wasn't long enough for all of that.

* * *

At the end of the day as they met up on the elevator to ride down to the lobby, Dean wanted to insist that Sam come back home with him to ensure that he could properly rest and eat, but Sam begged him off and insisted that he just go home for the day.

"I can just as easily rest there, besides I don't want to risk you catching anything."

"I thought you said you were just tired," he pointed out, making Sam look just the tiniest bit guilty.

"I might be sick. I'm sorry. I didn't want to worry you."

"Nice of you to warn me that you might be contagious after the fun we had in my office," he pointed out with a grin, earning him a mortified and guilty look before laughing it off and shaking his hand in dismissal. "I'm kidding you. I've got a great immune system. I'll be fine. I had a feeling you weren't being entirely honest about only being tired anyway. You just kind of had this look about you that didn't seem one hundred percent healthy anyway. In all honesty, I should have held back. That kind of thing can be exhausting and you look worn out enough as it is."

"No," Sam said immediately. "It helped. You're… you're the only thing that helps, Dean."

The odd statement confused him, but Sam only blushed and coughed into his fist awkwardly before he could ask just what that was supposed to mean. Oh well. He probably shouldn't prod too much right now anyway, not when the guy was a little out of his head and no doubt wasn't thinking his clearest. That would just be needlessly cruel.

"Okay, well I'll see you tomorrow then. You want a ride at least?" he offered.

"Thanks, but I think I'll just take the bus home," Sam stated with a shake of his head. "I think the fresh air might do me some good."

He wasn't sure how fresh the air could really be in the public transportation system but he didn't say anything. Perhaps Sam was trying to hint that he needed some time alone. They had been spending a lot of time together since yesterday afternoon. On the other hand, he could just really not be feeling well and was worried about Dean catching something from him. He would have to do his best not to read too much into it.

"Alright. Well, do me a favor please? If you're not feeling better by tomorrow then please call off and get some rest," he requested. "It's not good for you to push yourself so hard."

"Says the guy with the ten hours a day schedule," Sam snorted.

"I mean it. Please take care of yourself."

"Alright. Alright. I'll take my own temperature and everything," he promised before the elevator dinged and the doors slid open to allow them both to walk out and head their separate directions, Dean to the parking garage and Sam out on the street to stroll down to the bus stop.

He tried to ignore the way he immediately missed the other man, not wanting to feel like he was getting that clingy. Sam was fun after all, and very sweet, but the little butterflies in his stomach were only allowed to be so happy before he would start to feel like he was getting turned into a mushy idiot here. He could spend an evening alone without Sam.

It had to be because the other guy was obviously sick. He needed looking after, someone to make him soup and wipe him down if he got too covered in sweat. That might just be Dean's brain getting all jacked up though. Sam was an adult. He was perfectly capable of looking after himself when he needed to, didn't need the other man to stick around in order to baby him. That would just be overkill right there. Dean really just needed to cool down some, maybe spend some time alone and reflect on all of this.

Hard to believe it was only twenty-four hours ago when he'd been freaking out about going running with Sam. Just what had changed in that short amount of time, and how was it so significant that now Dean wanted to cling to Sam as if there was no one else in the world for him?

Sex wasn't that good after all.

Well, the sex with Sam really was that good. It was amazing in ways that made his head spin. He couldn't honestly think of a single person in his history that he'd had a better time with, but that couldn't be the only reason Dean was finding himself feeling so needy for the other's company, could it?

No, there was something about Sam, something special and unique in comparison to all the other relationships that he'd experienced in the past. He couldn't put his finger on it. It was just this warm feeling in his gut when he smiled, the concern that washed over him when it seemed like Sam was upset or unsure of himself. He just wanted to bathe in the man's presence but he also wanted to pull him close and take care of him like he clearly needed him to. There wasn't a single thing that didn't feel right about Sam, just perfect. Now that he was allowing himself to give in to these emotions it was becoming very clear to him just how much he not only wanted the man… but needed him.

The only issue was that kind of thinking could very quickly drive off the other person. When someone started talking about sharing bank accounts and what color drapes would look best in the kitchen after one single date, that was always the cue to run for the hills. He had no intention of coming off as some creepy and needy jerk that couldn't distinguish between naughty fun and a real relationship with a proper foundation. That kind of thing took time, and he was going to have to let things progress at a normal and safe pace for this too comfortable. If he rushed it then it would just end up breaking before either could really enjoy it or explore just where it might take them.

There was no way he was going to risk losing Sam just because he was feeling too eager to slow down for both of their sake.

So he'd allow Sam his space, even if every instinct in his body was telling him to drive right over to the apartment building to collect him. In reality, he didn't think it would be hard, knock on the door and flash him his bedroom eyes, say in a sultry tone that he didn't want to be lonely tonight, and maybe even press up against him and tell him the fastest way for him to get better was to share body heat with someone else in order to fight off chills.

The fact that a plan of seduction formed in his mind so fast was a bad sign. Worse was the fact he found himself driving in the completely opposite direction to get home and had to turn around to keep himself off the route that took him straight to Sammy's place.

Yeah, it was not going to be as easy to stay away from him as he needed it to be. His control was going to well worn by the end of this, he could just tell.

He comforted himself with the fact that sending him a text or two in an hour to ask how the man was feeling probably wouldn't come off as too needy. At least he hoped so. One thing was for sure, he was no longer sure he was feeling as relaxed as he'd previously thought about cool he could play off how deeply Sam affected him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually only answered that last question from the author's note at the start. I'm kind of a bitch like that. Sorry.


	9. Sickness and Streets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The muses have certainly been kind to me on this one. That and I just really, really like working on it. Anything that's fun is always easier to keep productive on, and this has been a ton of fun so far. All the support I've received has just been wonderful and I have to again thank you all for being so kind. I know I'm kind of repeating myself since I've already said this but you guys are just the greatest being so generous with the good vibes towards this story. It's been amazing of every single one of you.

Aside from a text the next morning that Sam was going into work because he was feeling better, which Dean wasn't entirely sure he believed when he read it, he didn't hear from the tech guy for all of Thursday. A part of him wanted to call or find some excuse to swing down to check up on him, but he figured such a thing wasn't really needed. If Sam got too sick then his supervisor would surely send him home. Besides, it's not like the man had been coughing or sneezing yesterday, nothing bad like that. At worst he'd just seemed out of it and tired, not fun to work through, but certainly something that Sam could handle if he had to.

Still, the man was already making plans for what they could do for the weekend, and if that included tying Sam to his bed to throw three blankets on top of him and feed him soup then by God would he do it. Maybe he would even go the full nine years and ask Sam for the recipe for that tomato rice soup that he'd mentioned before that his mom had made for him. It certainly couldn't hurt anything to give him the comfort food he'd once had from his parent.

He tried to shake this feeling that something was wrong because it was honestly starting to make him feel a little bit like a worrywart. If the guy said he was fine, then he certainly should be fine. It was only common sense. It's just, something inside of him didn't trust Sam to be able to take proper care of himself, just seemed like he was pushing himself way too hard.

Once again he had to remind himself that it really wasn't up to him and that as long as Sam wasn't contagious, which it was looking like he wasn't, it was his own call if he decided to work through it and not waste any sick time. Not that he had sick time to burn since he'd just moved here and started working. Those benefits wouldn't start up for a while, a probationary period to get through first at the very least. He wasn't a child and it's not like he'd work himself to collapse.

At least Dean hoped that he wouldn't.

It was a little disappointing when he didn't see the taller man on the elevator either, and when he reached the first floor he dug out his phone to send him a fast message.

"Hey, heading home now. About to go to the parking garage. You want a ride?" he typed out and then sent. Something casual to offer, nothing pushy that betrayed he was worried or anything. He didn't want to come across as a nag about his health.

A few moments passed before he got a reply, his phone buzzing in his hand. With a quick tap on the button he opened the message from Sam, smiling a bit at the contents.

"I'd love a ride home. Do you want to come up with me? I can make us some coffee or something before you go."

He doubted Sam had his brand. The stuff he drank was expensive after all, but the idea of being able to see his apartment did sound appealing, so he sent him a text telling him it sounded like it was a good idea to him and told him that he'd be waiting in the garage by his car.

A good ten minutes passed before he was joined, Sam walking up to him. He still looked just as tired but seemed cheerful with a soft smile on his face when he waved at Dean.

"Good day?" he asked, wondering what had put him in such a good mood.

"Yeah. You could say that," he admitted. "Really good dreams last night too."

"I'm glad you aren't having nightmares like you did in the office," he said as the both of them climbed into the car. "What did you dream about, if you don't mind me asking."

"Ah… if I say it's going to sound weird," Sam confessed.

"Try me."

"I was… I dreamed of you again," he admitted as Dean pulled out onto the road and headed off. "We were on some kind of road trip or something because we're were out in the middle of nowhere, sitting on the side of this dirt path, sitting on the back of a car. There was this six-pack of beer between us, and we were just relaxing and watching the stars for hours. It was just really relaxing."

"That does sound nice. Man, I haven't been on a road trip in forever," he stated before turning to look at Sam. "We should do that."

"What?" Sam asked, sounding confused.

"Some weekend when we both have time, we should go on a little trip," he stated. "We can pack some food and drinks, find a nice quiet spot and just have a little picnic. It could be fun."

"I don't think I'd be up for it this weekend, but maybe sometime after that would be good."

"Oh yeah. We have to do it when you're healthy," Dean agreed. "Speaking of, how are you feeling? Are you doing any better?"

"Eh, it's… it's ups and downs. I was cold a lot of the day, and some parts of the day I felt like I was going to die of overheating," Sam sighed out as he looked out the window. "I'm starting to think I've caught some kind of stomach bug or something."

"Are you able to keep food down?"

"Yeah, for the most part."

The most part didn't sound encouraging to him, but Sam closed his eyes before he could press. Dean allowed it, figuring it would be better just to allow him to rest anyway. No reason to hassle him nonstop about this. Sam was acknowledging he wasn't feeling well, and that was enough for now. At least until they got to the apartment and could discuss it some more anyway.

He took Sam's bag for him when they took the elevator up the floors to Sam's place, and waited for him to put in the key to get them inside. The place was… well, a bit cramped but he supposed it was an okay size for just one person. Dean's own apartment was easily twice this big but he felt that it would be rude to say anything.

Though, he did think that Sam would be able to get much better rest at his place. He'd even be willing to give Sam the bed this time and take the couch himself.

"Make yourself at home," Sam said as he went to the kitchenette to make some coffee. "Any sugar or cream?"

"Just a drop of cream. No sugar, please," he replied. "You want me to make it?"

"Nah, I got it, Dean," Sam assured him as he got the coffee grounds and then the water to start the pot for the two of them. "Thanks for the ride home, by the way. I kind of was dreading having to get back on the bus today. It's not a hard commute, but a car that can just go directly to where you need to go is a lot easier in the long run."

"Of course. I didn't mind," he stated before he scooted over a bit so Sam could come over and sit next to him as they waited for the coffee to brew. "I have to admit, I was a little worried about you today. I really wasn't sure if you should be working."

"Ehh, I probably shouldn't have but I don't really have much of a choice. I don't want to look like that lazy employee who calls in sick just because I don't feel like working. This early in and that's exactly how it would appear to everyone else. It's not worth it. Besides, I've made it through this far. All that's left is Friday and then I'll be able to rest for the whole weekend. I'm sure by that point I'll shake this, whatever it is that I've got."

Dean sat there thinking for a minute or two before he frowned. If he could have his way Sam would take a three day weekend and just allow himself to rest as long as possible. He'd made it pretty clear he didn't want to bother with that though in order to avoid losing money and credit at work, but maybe there was a way Sam could have his cake and eat it too.

"Why don't you do an out of office workday?" he suggested to him. "I could put in a work order that my computer needs parts or something. We can say you used Friday to collect the components and just work on my laptop at home. I'll take care of the paperwork so you can just relax."

"Does your computer need any work?" Sam asked him.

"Some updates, but that's stuff I can easily do myself. You just take a company credit card and pick what I need up on Friday so I'll have receipts where the dates match, and then go home and sleep. We'll call it a full day of work, and I'll handle the updates myself on Saturday or something. You'll have maybe an hour of running around, then you can just sleep the rest of the day," Dean explained.

It was far from honest but he figured that this was the closest they were going to get at a compromise. He'd even be willing to go out and get the things himself, but he knew that little part of the plan wouldn't work. If he was missing from his office for an hour or so when he'd supposedly be sending out a tech guy to do the shopping for him then it would look weird. Besides, he was sure Sam would more steadily agree to it if he ended up doing a little work. It would make it seem less like he was taking company time and pay for nothing.

"Well… alright," Sam agreed after thinking it over. "It's not like I'm hopping up and down to be stuck at a cubicle for my entire day."

"It does seem like it would be pretty cramped for a guy your size," he agreed. "Thanks for taking the suggestion. I was worried I'd have to hogtie you as a last resort."

He laughed at his own words, making it clear it was a joke, or at least it mostly was. Again, he didn't want to seem like he was worrying too much, but he had been growing pretty concerned for the guy. Knowing he'd take an additional day off to allow his body to recuperate instead of just continuing to push himself would help him feel a lot better about all of this.

"That does seem like a lot of effort to go through just for me though," Sam noted. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Believe me, if it comes down between that and you looking like a zombie for who knows how long, I'll take ripping the company out of some hours. Besides, it'll be such a small amount no one will ever even notice, and I really could stand to have my computer worked on. This is just a good excuse to do it now instead of later. No harm, no foul."

"Yeah, I guess I can see it from that point of view," Sam replied before the coffee maker went off and he got up to get them both a cup. He took his own with plenty of cream but no sugar, something Dean made a note of, just in case it came up later sometime.

The spent the rest of the time sitting together and sipping coffee, idly talking about nothing. Dean went over his day, but seeing as nothing eventful had really happened he wouldn't have blamed Sam for only half listening. When his coffee was empty, he leaned in and kissed Sam on the cheek then smiled.

"Want me to come pick you up for work tomorrow morning?" he offered.

"No, I think I'm good. I'll take the bus in," Sam stated. "It might look weird if we arrive together too often. I don't want to create trouble for you."

"Yeah, what we're doing isn't against any policies, but let's not flaunt it either," Dean agreed with him before setting the cup aside and standing up. "Alright, well I'll be heading out then. I'll send you an email about what I need you to pick up tomorrow. Just do the shopping and then head home. I'll collect the purchases and receipts from you later."

He put a hand to Sam's shoulder when he got up to see him out, telling him just to relax and rest. He didn't need to be walked to the door after all, and it would be better if Sam didn't move unless he had to.

"I'll see you tomorrow after work. Bye, Sam," he said, to which he got a wave in response and closed the door behind himself and headed out back home. He still wasn't completely okay with leaving Sam alone to take care of himself, but with that compromise he did feel a lot better about it overall. At the very least this proved that Sam could be reasoned with.

* * *

He wouldn't want to admit it for the risk of sounding like a whining cry baby, but Sam was secretly glad that Dean had hatched this scheme to get him a short workday where he wouldn't lose any pay. When he woke up, he felt like he was getting worse, not better. It took him a good hour to climb out of bed, already running late. He had to skip breakfast, but his stomach was aching so much he wasn't sure a meal would do him any good anyway.

When the elevator took its time getting to him, he ended up just forgetting it and ran down the stairs, taking them three at a time. His needs screamed at him, but he firmly told himself that the sooner he got this done, then the sooner he could get back to bed and take some more pain killers. Perhaps he could even swing by Dean's office real fast as an excuse to say hello. Seeing his face might perk him up again, after all.

When he missed the bus, he found himself wishing he'd accepted the offer for a ride after all. There was no way he was up to walking all the way there. This day just wasn't going according to plan already. He was just pulling out his phone and dialing the man, hoping he could catch him before he arrived at work when he felt himself getting grabbed from behind.

He didn't get a chance to call out in shock, a hand clapping over his mouth and yanking him back from the street into the alleyway be the apartment building. The grip on him felt strong as solid steel, and even if he hadn't felt so weak he didn't think he would be able to have fought against it. Slammed to the wall, he stared in shock as he saw a woman, tiny in comparison to himself. She was more than a full head shorter than he was and looked like she wouldn't even be half his weight with her small and skinny frame. However before he could even say anything to express his shock, she snarled at him.

"You have been a serious pain in my ass, Sam," she hissed. "You know how hard it's been to get to you?"

"H-how do you know my name?" he gasped out, his mind still reeling from what was going on. "Who are you?"

"Yeah, I don't have time for the rundown. I could get caught by those bastards any minute. You've been making this way too tough on me, and going around playing at being Dean's boy toy of all things? Really?" she sneered. "You're lucky I want Lilith dead so bad because this flip-flopping act of what you want is really getting old."

Sam felt like a weight of lead dropped down into his stomach, and he didn't know how to respond. How did she know about Dean? He had been so sure he'd seen someone at the park, but that didn't explain how she knew his name. Had she been stalking him? What was she talking about, wanting someone dead?!

"Look, I don't know what you want, but we can talk about this," he offered. She wasn't a threat, not physically, at least she didn't look it. She was clearly nuts though, to be following him like this. "You were the one at my window, weren't you?"

"Yeah, Sam, I don't have time for this. I was supposed to get into your place this weekend, but you weren't there. I kept trying to reach you, but you either won't come home or wake up at the slightest noise," she scoffed. "I bet the withdrawals are kicking your ass right about now. You can thank me for giving you the medicine later."

He had no idea what she meant by that, but it didn't seem like she was planning on explaining herself past that point. All of a sudden she lunged at him, grabbing him and trying to wrestle with him. For what it was worth, he tried putting up a fight, but she was stronger than he would have thought. Even with him getting drug into an alley, her grip on him seemed unbelievably hard and he couldn't pull him off of her.

Desperation must have been what caused him to curl his hand into a fist and punch her in the face, but it didn't even register to her. She just looked up at him, a mix between being completely unimpressed and annoyed at his attempt.

"You want to play it like that, fine. Like I said, you'll thank me later," she said before her fist slammed right into his gut. The wind was knocked right out of him and he gasped out before he fell over on the rough ground of the alleyway. His whole body was already burning, but as the gravel scratched at his skin, he felt like every nerve was alive with pain. Even his coughing felt laborious, hacking out of his throat in a way that felt like sandpaper was inside of his neck.

He made a swipe at her when she straddled his chest, but she batted it away as easily as if he were a toddler throwing a tantrum. He had no fight left in him, but when he saw her pull a long and polished knife from out of her pant's leg he at least made an attempt to struggle.

"Please, take whatever you want," he said in terror. Oh god, he was going to die here. She was going to stab him and leave him in the alleyway to bleed to death, and he didn't even know why. "Just don't do this."

"Shhhh," she replied soothingly, putting a finger to his lips. "Sorry for playing rough, but you really have been making this tough on the both of us. If you'd just done what I needed you to do, this all could have been over with already. I would have slipped in while you were asleep and you'd never even known it. Just trust me, Sam, like before. I promise it'll taste just as good as it did the first time."

She leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips, and there was no space to try and pull back from. He felt revolted at the touch, not wanting to have anything to do with it, but the way she was sitting on him was making it harder and harder to breathe, air cut off from his lungs. His head was starting to swim, none of what she was saying was making any sense, and he had a feeling even if she wasn't cutting off the flow to his oxygen he'd be in much the same state anyway.

"Here you go, Sammy. I'll take care of you," she assured him with a coy little smile before she dragged the knife over not his skin, but her own. His eyes widened in shock as he saw dark red blood from under her wrist, the cut deep enough it looked like it could easily kill her if she didn't get medical attention for it soon. However, she was completely unconcerned, instead smiling at him with all the innocence of a schoolgirl.

When her wrist tipped over, something clicked in Sam's mind that he knew what she was going to do. Before he could clamp his mouth shut, her other hand grabbed his face by the jaw and forced his mouth open. He gave one last attempt to throw her off of him, desperate to make a run for it, but it felt like was trapped under a mountain for all the good it did.

"Relax, Sam. It'll be fine. Just remember I'm the one taking care of you," she cooed at him before shoving her wrist to his mouth. The first taste of it hitting his tongue caused him to convulse, his eyes sliding back into his head. The last thing he remembered was swallowing down deeply and how the liquid caused every fiber of his body to burst into a hot flame that could not even hope to be extinguished.

* * *

Dean burst into the hospital, not giving one damn about who he might knock over in his rush. He didn't care about something like being polite right now, or even the safety of anyone else. He needed to get to the receptionist's desk now to find out what was going on.

Getting a call from the police two hours into his workday was not something that was a norm for him, and he was pretty far past the point of freaking out. He'd felt his blood run cold when he was told that they'd found a phone next to a man who's ID said he was a Sam Wesson and the last number on the call list had been his own. With no emergency contact, they'd gotten in contact with him to ask if he knew the man.

With a confusing conversation, wanting to know exactly why he was getting called and having to explain that Sam didn't have any relatives to call instead, he'd received the news that it looked like Sam had been attacked and knocked out. A full-blown panic had swept over him and he'd literally sprinted to Mr. Adler's office, telling him he had to go due to an emergency. The older man had given him a funny look before nodding and telling him he could head out now if he needed to, and Dean had practically flown to his car. No less than five red lights run, and parking haphazardly, and he was rushing to the counter to try and get to Sam.

"Where is Sam Wesson?" he asked the moment he got there, not giving a damn how he must have looked, ruffled, panting and worried.

"Name?" the nurse asked in such a calm manner that Dean wanted to hit her.

"Dean Smith. I'm his emergency contact," he lied easily. He didn't want to be slowed down here. He wanted to get to Sam, and he wanted to get to him now. "Where is he?"

She took a horribly long time to type it into the computer, and even longer to read over the screen to find the information. In all reality, it had probably taken something like two minutes, but to the man it felt like she was moving at the same rate it had taken the entire universe to form. It was really taking everything he had not to yell at her to hurry up.

"Looks like he's in room 218. It also has a note that the police want to-"

He didn't bother staying for the rest, not caring the least what she had to say now that he had what he wanted. He ran to the stairs and rushed up them, dodging past a couple of other nurses and a doctor to get to the second floor and find the room where Sam was in.

He was out like a light, even when Dean burst in to check on him. He didn't stir at all, which Dean wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. He was in a gown in the bed and hooked up to a machine that was keeping track of his heartbeat, plus an IV stuck into his arm. With no clue if that was a good or bad thing, he wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or not.

The police came by shortly afterward, looking a bit annoyed, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He just told them what he knew, which was very little sadly. He was Sam's coworker in a different department. They were close and that's why Sam had his number. He would have been on his way to work when he got grabbed. No, he had no idea why anyone would want to hurt him.

Dean wondered about mentioning the incident in the park, but he wasn't even sure what to even tell them. He hadn't seen anyone, and wouldn't be able to give a description aside from that when Sam had apparently seen someone it had been a woman. That only covered about half the city, no big deal.

So he kept his mouth shut on that part, figuring Sam would be able to give more information about what had happened when he woke up. And he would wake up, a doctor assured him of that. Apparently right now his body was in shock, his heart rate too fast, but in a while he'd be fine.

Dean was no doctor, but he was sure a heart beating too quickly was a bad thing, but he was too stressed to be thinking straight. Clearly the doctor wasn't worried, and that had to be a good sign.

So he pulled a chair up to Sam's bed and waited, because there didn't seem to be anything else that he could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even going to say anything. I'm just curious how you guys will react to this.


	10. Calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, this took way too long get back to. You'll have to forgive me. I'm afraid some major things went down with me that I had to take care of and work through. No worries, because everything is fine now but it left everything in a wreck for a while, and hobbies like fanfiction had to be put on the back-burner. I am now back to good health and full form though, so it's back to the stories I go. Thank you all so much for your patience. I know a lot of people have been eager for this next chapter to find out just what is going on and what's happening next.

The beeping was the first thing that Sam became aware of as his eyes opened, the second being just how bright it was in the room he was currently lying in. It somehow seemed more so than what it actually was, the pristine white of the entire area reflecting the light in a way that seemed specifically designed to hurt his eyes.

He wanted to close them again, to be away from the room, even if it was in his own head. The darkness just behind his eyelids felt so compelling to fall into right now, to just fade away and let himself drift in it. It probably had to do with the fact he didn't know why he was in the room, and more than that, he didn't even know where the room was. It really should be concerning, however he was feeling too fuzzy to honestly care all that much. He felt relaxed now, in a way he had not in a long while, and he was loathed to let go of it.

Something told him that the second the world came more into focus, he was going to want to hide from it for as long as possible. The little hunches he was getting lately seemed to make him feel paranoid these days, but he was getting comfortable just listening to it.

"You're in here with me, aren't you?" he asked, his eyes closed again as he refused to stare up at the ceiling any longer. He couldn't move, but he didn't feel anything tying him down. Was he just tired?

"Got it one, buddy," an amused voice replied softly. "Sorry about before. I really didn't want to hurt you, but you were acting out a lot. I don't like hurting you, Sammy. You know that, don't you?"

"That sounds like something an abuser would say," he noted. He was feeling oddly calm as the memories flitted back to him, her and the alleyway, an impossible strength to her small frame. She was tiny in comparison to him, and yet she had… "You did something to me..."

"I made you better," she replied. "I don't envy the withdrawals you had to be feeling."

His eyes opened again, and he craned his neck as much as he could, barely an inch and it took everything he had. She was standing in the corner, but at his movement walked over and traced a finger over his forehead, brushing the hair from his eyes. Her smile seemed gentle, kind even, and he wasn't sure if that scared or reassured him.

"This is the best I can do for you. I shouldn't even be here now. They're watching everything, Sammy. They've… well, I don't think they'd like me interfering. I really did mean to get to you earlier, slip in and out without you even knowing to make sure they didn't know," she explained. "The way you were getting worse and worse though… I couldn't bear to see you suffer anymore. I'm sorry, really I am."

Sam wanted an explanation, but she was being too evasive for him to think of what to even say. This woman knew him. Just who was 'they' and why was she being so evasive of them? What was going on?

She leaned in and kissed his cheek softly, but he couldn't help but notice that her lips had lingered just over his own for a moment before he jerked away. She accommodated him by moving to a less intimate area. He didn't understand why the panic he'd felt in the attack wasn't rising up in him again. Sam didn't want her to kiss him, on his mouth or anywhere else. However, the sound of the door opening caused him to quickly look over to the opposite direction of her before either could comment on it.

"Dean," he breathed out. "Dean, you have to help me."

The man was over by his side immediately, a cup of coffee in one of his hands.

"Hey, man. You were out for a while. You feeling okay?" he asked him gently.

"Get the police," Sam said immediately. Despite how sluggish he felt, he wanted to stress just how quickly he needed help right now.

"They're already here. The doctors said it was going to take a while for you to wake up so they've been waiting. We all have," he said, same soothing tone as before. "Hell, Sammy, you scared the crap out of me. Just try to take it easy though, okay? You're safe now."

"Tell them to arrest her," Sam urged, jerking his head to the side to indicate the woman.

"Who?" Dean asked, his calm voice giving way to confusion. "Do you know who did it?"

Sam opened his mouth to indicate the girl in the room before he began to realize Dean was giving no indication to anyone else in the room. Horror settled inside of his stomach as he turned back over, to see the woman was gone, as if she'd never been there at all.

"I… I don't know who she is, but I saw what she looks like," he settled on with a sigh. "God, what do they have me on?"

"Oh yeah, I think they pumped you with a few things on the way here in the ambulance or something," Dean explained. "Your heart rate was bad for a while until it started to slow down. They said you'd be okay though, overall. Guess I should get someone. I could-"

"Dean, please stay with me," he cut off the other man. "Just for a second, please."  
He felt desperate and helpless, and worse yet he almost wanted a panic to rise up in him. He didn't like the forced calm settled over him, how hard it was to move or even feel anything. It was like he was asleep and trapped in his own body, and his mind would have screamed for freedom if it was even awake enough to do so.

The fact he wasn't getting freaked out only made him want to freak out more.

Dean paused for a second before he took one of Sam's hands in his own, gently stroking the back of it with his thumb.

"Hey, it's okay. Everything is going to be alright," he assured him. "I totally get it. I was scared too. Hell, I'm lucky I didn't get into a crash with the way I was driving here to get to you. When I got the call from the police I was terrified."

He gave a weak chuckle along with a smile, as if trying to make light of this whole thing.

"I was so freaked I'm surprised they didn't stick me with something too just to calm me down," he joked, but Sam didn't laugh. He didn't see a thing even remotely funny about any of this, not even in a dark humor, ironic sort of way. Still, he could appreciate that his lover was at least trying for him. God knew someone had to be kind of okay with this, and Sam himself felt like he was going insane.

A deadly calm was inside of him, and as much as he hated it, it was helping him think about a few things clearly. That girl had bled into his mouth, had forced him to drink it. If she was sick with anything then he might have it now too. He could have some disease now, some STD of some kind. What if that had been the point? What if she was some psycho who went around infecting people and had stalked him out as some new victim?

There was no reason why. He didn't know her, he knew he didn't, and yet that didn't matter. She didn't have to actually know him, just some digging through his trash, following him, and something about him had tripped the wire in her head to make him the next victim.

He had to talk to the police, but more than that, he had to talk to the doctors and tell them everything. He needed to be tested, needed to find out if he had anything.

Oh god… he could kiss his relationship with Dean goodbye if that was the case. They'd never be able to touch one another again. Even if Dean said he was okay with it, even if they did their best to be careful during sex, there were still risks. The idea he might transmit something killed him inside, tore a hole right into his gut. He'd have to end it, be responsible and just tell him it was over and why so Dean didn't have to wonder what he'd done wrong.

He'd let go of Madison. He could let go of Dean too if he had to. It wasn't that a romantic relationship could only be had with sex involved, but he couldn't bear the thought of tying him down to someone who would either need to never touch him, or run the risk of catching something dangerous and maybe deadly any time they slept together. That along with possibly watching Sam get sick and deteriorate right in front of him, how could he push something like that on Dean? It would be too selfish to even ask someone he'd only been with a short while to be that understanding.

"I think I'm good to talk now," he said softly. "Can you go get… whoever wants to do this first? Please?"

"Sure. Just do this at your own pace," Dean assured him before leaning in and kissing his cheek. It was the opposite one that the woman had placed her own affection on, and somehow with all the worries inside of Sam's head, it hurt just as badly.

He didn't like reliving the attack when the police came in for a statement, a couple patrolmen in uniform writing down details. Still, he forced himself to tell them everything, going through it as best as he could remember, even the parts that made no sense like how she was able to overpower him so easily. Who knew, maybe she'd been hopped up on adrenaline or steroids when she'd done it? Sam knew nothing about this kind of thing, and didn't want to trip up the cops by leaving something out even if it did seem unbelievable. They had to know more about this kind of stuff than he did. He told them all about how he'd seen her before, outside his window and that he'd moved to another apartment because of it, how he was sure he'd seen her at the park while running. Any little detail that felt like it could help slipped past his lips, to the point where he almost felt like he was oversharing.

By the time it was all over, he felt exhausted, yet didn't want to stop either. He was strong enough to sit up by that point, and had no reason to deny the blood tests suggested to him to see if he now had anything. He felt like the after image on a before and after PSA poster against hard-living, on a hospital bed, looking lost and helpless. Would he now be one of those people, a statistic used to warn the masses against sharing needles and sleeping with strangers without a condom?

He was sure the worst thing was the sympathetic smiles he kept getting, the little pats on his shoulder as he was told he would be okay, no matter what happened. A nurse old enough to be his mother left a few pamphlets for him once she got the blood she needed and told him that they'd noticed the blood on and in his mouth when he'd arrived, and that they'd pumped his stomach once they knew it was safe enough.

"Odds are very good you're going to be fine," she assured him. "These tests are just to be sure. We have this information for you just as an in case sort of thing. Worst case scenario is always what needs to be prepped for, but it doesn't always happen. You read them at your leisure."

"Can… can you put them away for now?" he asked softly. "In a drawer or something. I don't… I just can't right now. I don't want to look at them."

"Of course, honey. Anything you need," she replied as she slipped them away from sight. Honestly, it was more that Sam didn't want Dean to see them. Currently waiting in the hall, he hadn't heard anything about the attack or the blood. He didn't want to tell him unless he had to.

Sam could let Dean walk away if it was for the best, but until he knew that he had to let go, he had to hope that he wouldn't be forced to. He didn't want to scare Dean, didn't want to think there was a chance they couldn't have something together if he himself was okay and there was no risk of infecting his lover as well.

"How long before we know for sure?" he asked.

"These tests usually take about forty-eight hours," she explained. "You'll be released by this afternoon, and we can either call you or send you mail on it, or both if you like. I'd think Monday by the latest."

"Both. I want to know soon as I can," he replied. His voice felt so far off right now, like he wasn't panicking and that was still scaring him. It all just felt so… final. More than anything, he felt tired and defeated.

"I'll get this down to testing now," she told him. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"There's a man out there, waiting. Is it okay if he visits longer?"

"Sure. No problem, sweetie. I'll send him in."

He was sure Dean knew something was wrong even when he walked in. Sam had no idea how to even hide it, but the man didn't ask. He just sat down next to the bed and took Sam's hand in his own again.

"I won't leave," he said, and for one wild moment Sam thought he somehow knew, that someone had already told him, or he knew enough to put two and two together on his own. But then Dean kept talking, and it was clear it was something else. "When they release you I'll still be here, okay? Give you a ride to my place and we'll stay there while you rest."

Sam didn't even protest, nor felt bad about crashing over at Dean's yet again. Why fight it? He wanted to be with him, wanted to feel comforted by him being close. To say otherwise would just be a lie. Also, the idea of going back to the apartment where that woman clearly had easy access to him was not an option. Sam would feel safer sleeping on the street than a place where she knew where to find him.

Would she still even be after him though? Had she gotten what she wanted?

It was all too big for him, and a mess in his mind. He knew he needed rest. He also knew he should probably say something to Dean. He just didn't know what.

So he stayed in the bed, silence hanging between them, and wondered idly if his life was effectively over.

* * *

It was completely understandable that Sam didn't want to talk much. A mugging, and apparently a pretty serious one at that, was no picnic to live through. While he hadn't known Sam long, Dean felt the guy wasn't too hard to figure out, once you started to notice the pattern. He could be very quiet at times, introspecting and thoughtful he supposed. It created this kind of mysterious air about him, though now wasn't really the time to appreciate the finer points of the guy.

The most important thing was to get him somewhere he could rest so he could start to heal.

"You know, I think you should take the bed. You mentioned the couch messing with your back last time," he said as Sam settled down on the aforementioned furniture.

"I don't think we should share the bed," Sam admitted to him with a shake of his head. "It's yours after all."

That just confused him. It was more than big enough to fit both of them, but when he opened his mouth to mention that, Sam just shot him a look. It wasn't cold or dismissive, but it was firm, enough so that he just had to shrug and throw his hands up.

"Okay, I won't argue with you about it," he relented. He didn't want to come down too hard right now, as if he were some kind of mother hen. If Sam felt better out here, then he'd stay out here. "I'm going to look at the meds real fast, make sure there's no food you can't have with it and then get cooking. It's a bit early for dinner but I think we both could use some food."

"Thanks, Dean. You don't have to do this all for me, you know."

"I know, but it's the right thing to do. Hell, even if we weren't together I'd want to do this for you."

Sam seemed to pause for a second, looking up at him, his eyes big and vulnerable, clouded with worry.

"If we weren't together then we… I mean… Dean, would you stay if… I mean, if something… bad happened..."

"Yeah?" he asked, wondering what the other man was stumbling over to try to say.

Sam chewed on his bottom lip before letting his head fall back on the couch and sighed softly.

"Nothing. I'm too tired to talk about it right now. Can I have some water with dinner?"

"You can have some water right now," he said as he moved to the sink and got him something to drink.

Whatever he wanted to talk about could wait if it needed to. It was more important to focus on his health. Anything else could and should come later. This was a bit of a scare for both of them, but now that Dean could be more active, he knew what he had to do. His panic from before was because he needed to see Sam, needed to know that he was okay. He'd been able to calm down and take things at a slower pace once he knew what was going on, and now he was sliding into another mode.

Namely, right now Sam needed someone to look after him. Someone to make sure he took his medicine and get him food, take him back to the hospital if anything else happened and generally just keep an eye on him. Now that he was in that mode, he could allow himself to just go with the flow as things happened. The danger had seemed to pass and now the man just needed to focus on healing. Everything else Dean could take care of for him to make sure nothing else could go wrong.

He wanted to know more details about what had happened, wanted to ask Sam to share, but the guy did not seem in the mood. He'd probably been grilled by the cops already and unless he volunteered the story himself then Dean was going to assume Sam just didn't want to talk about it anymore. Overall, it was better to be safe than sorry.

So he went over to Sam and handed him the water, helped him hold it up as he drank it, just in case, and took the glass when he was finished and placed it on the coffee table. He didn't reach for Sam to hold him, instead sat still as the taller man leaned on his shoulder and just rested there, silent but calm and serene.

"You mind staying a little bit before you make dinner?" he asked.

"I'll stay as long as you need me too, Sam," he assured him.

It was probably why he kept thinking he should get up and get them both food, even as the hours slipped by. Still, Sam never moved or let go of him, an arm wrapping loosely around his waist as they sat there together. Dean never asked to be let go of, not wanting to. All that mattered was Sam needed him and that he needed to be there for him. In the end he just slipped out his phone and put in for an order of pizza online and then felt regretful when he had to get up long enough to go to the door and pay for it. The distance between them was only half a room, and collecting the food only took a minute or so, and yet it was too much for him. He got back to Sam as fast as he could manage, both of them eating in silence, just needing each other.

He refused to let Sam leave either, come Saturday. They both woke up on the couch, and while Sam moved around a bit more, going to wash up and take his pain pills, Dean didn't let him say a word about going to his own place. A halfhearted attempt was that he should go was made, but Dean silenced it with an offer to go himself and pick up whatever Sam needed like clothes or the like. Otherwise, he made it clear that Sam was staying with him and there would be no argument about it.

Sam didn't seem willing to argue anyway, and so that was the end of it, just another day of spending in his apartment to relax and get better. When they were hungry they ate, Dean actually cooking the rest of the time, but besides that always within arm's reach of one another.

It wasn't until Sunday evening that there was a shift, an end to the quiet energy seeming to build about the place. Without even knowing why, it felt like a calm before the storm, and when Sam's phone went off, he snatched it up and ran to the other room, ignoring the call after him asking him what was going on.

Dean could do nothing but wait, wondering what had prompted such a reaction before he heard Sam yell out.

"Sam! Sammy, is something wrong?" he cried out as he ran into his bedroom where the other man had gone to take the call. He was just inside the door when two hands grabbed him and yanked him close, lips crashing on him and kissing him eagerly.

It felt hungry, desperate and clawing, the fingers digging into his side so deeply it actually hurt a bit. Confusion swept over him more than arousal, but the kiss was so sloppy he wasn't sure arousing was what Sam was even going for. When he pulled away he was panting hard, a wild look in his eyes that made them seem to Dean darker than what they actually were.

"Sam, what was that?"

"I can touch you. I can have you," he breathed out quickly. "I can't believe it. It's okay. You're mine. I can keep you."

"Of course you can keep me. Why would you think you can't?" he asked, bewildered by all of this.

Sam refused to answer though and only pulled him in for another kiss, though gentler this time. Dean almost demanded answers, before he felt the wetness of tears against his face, tears that Sam either wasn't aware he was shedding or did not care.

It was enough to keep him from asking. For whatever reason, whatever had happened, Sam needed this.

And Dean had long since realized he was going to give Sam anything and everything he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it was clear to anyone who watched the show what's going on with the blood, I didn't want to drag the scare for Sam out too long. However, to someone who doesn't know anything about the ghosts and demons in their lives, I can imagine the logical conclusion to someone bleeding in your mouth would be quite different. That scare wasn't something I wanted to gloss over, but also knew I couldn't dwell on too much because all it would do was hurt Sam, not leave any readers in senescence. So this chapter seemed a healthy middle ground.
> 
> Next time I promise it won't take nearly so long to get to another chapter.


	11. Sin meets Virtue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie, this chapter took something out of me. I don't mean that in a bad way though. Honestly, it was a lot of fun to work on, it really was. However, it just kind of sapped me. I don't even know why. I suppose it was just how dramatic it all turned out. I mean, I'm a Supernatural fan. Clearly I love my drama in fiction but it can still be, just wow.
> 
> So anyway, I hope that you guys like it. Don't worry though. It's good drama, mostly anyway.

If he was asked later on, Sam wouldn't remember just how he ended up on the bed with Dean, laying out on top of the covers as they rested next to each other. Perhaps he had pulled the other man to it with him, or maybe Dean had been the one to lead him over. It didn't matter, not really. He just felt relaxed and at peace with himself, better than he had in… he didn't even know anymore.

The last week being sick, with aches and pains, then what had happened on Friday… God, the only good thing he'd had was Dean. He really didn't know how he would have gotten through all of it if it hadn't been for him being around.

"So, you going to tell me what that was all about before?" Dean asked him, breaking the serene silence between them. His tone was soft though, and the question didn't seem too pressing. Sam was sure he could beg off giving an explanation if he really wanted to, but he supposed he owed him the truth. Now that he knew that it wasn't going to potentially tear apart their relationship, it felt a lot less scary to talk about.

It was hard to believe they'd only started dating at the beginning of the week. Hell, his previous weekend had comprised of hangovers and trying to think of a good way to ask the man out while also worrying about someone breaking into his apartment. This week had been busier than one he'd had in a very long time.

"It was..." he started before drifting off. He was trying to think of how best to explain. Blurting it all out seemed so tactless, and he didn't want to freak him out. "So, when I got mugged, it was a woman. It was the same one I thought I saw in the park, you know right before I said we needed to leave."

"Holy hell. So you really were being followed?" Dean asked, concern in his voice immediately.

"Looks like it. She jumped me and pulled me into the alley next to my apartment complex. The crazy thing is… she… she put blood inside of me. I thought… I thought I might be sick now, contagious. That call I just got was the lab results. I'm completely clean," he stated in a soft whisper.

"Put in you? What, with like a needle or something?" Dean asked, sounding horrified at the thought.

"Or something, yeah," Sam replied. He didn't want to get into the full details of how she'd sliced herself open right on top of him, forced him to drink it down. The details on the matter were already sure to give him nightmares, he just knew it. "She… I don't know what she was after. She was going on and on like a crazy person. Said she'd been following me for a week now, seemed to know who you were too. It was nuts."

"Now I'm really glad I didn't let you go home," he breathed. "What kind of… I mean, who does crap like that?"

Sam paused for a second before rubbing at his forehead.

"It's actually not that uncommon. Sometimes people just snap. Usually the one someone starts stalking is a person they know though," he sighed.

Dean rolled over to look at him, a curious expression on his face.

"Sounds like you already know something about this," he noted. "What, have you bumped into this woman before?"

"No. No, I'd remember someone like her, trust me," Sam reassured him with a shake of his head. "No. Before I lived here, I had a fiance. Her name is Madison. She and I met two, almost three years ago. She was actually the one who pursued me first. The type of woman who just… was amazing. She knew exactly what she wanted and wasn't shy about getting it. Things with her were intense in the best ways, but they were also… Just good, like calm kind of good. We could spend one weekend out, dancing and drinking and then the next just cuddling on the couch watching TV for hours, fighting the need to get up because we were so warm holding each other."

"Sounds great," Dean said, sounding confused. "So what happened?"

Sam took a deep breath as he licked his lips. He had never really talked about this before, with anyone. He didn't even like going over it in his own head. It had been so damn hard, how bad it had gotten in the end, the shouting, the tears… the guilt. It was easier just to say it ended whenever it came up, and leave the details out of it.

"We met right after she broke up with her previous boyfriend," he explained. "The guy was a creep. Couldn't accept that she'd moved on. So he got it in his head that he could force her to take him back. It started with him going to her work and hangouts, and then following her everywhere she went. When he started threatening her, we'd both had enough. Called the cops and pressed charges. He went to jail for a short time and we thought it would be done with..."

He licked his lips before continuing. This wasn't exactly easy to go over, but he couldn't leave it where it was. You didn't just open up a can of worms like this only to ignore it.

"It was only supposed to be a year, six months with good behavior," he whispered softly, barely hearing his own voice, but Dean seemed to understand what he was saying just fine, watching him intently. "There was no way Madison could have known. It wasn't her fault what happened. He… I don't know the exact details. They were never released and we didn't have the legal right to ask, but somehow… I guess he got into a fight with someone or got attacked and… He got killed. Stabbed in the throat, I think. When she found out..."

He trailed off, remembering how the news had just broken her. She almost hadn't wanted to believe it at first, more in shock when she'd heard. For three whole days she'd used every connection she had at the law office she worked at to try to find out exactly what had happened. Sam had wanted to tell her to stop, for her own sake more than anything, but she only withdrew every time he'd tried to bring it up to her, tell her that none of it had been her fault.

"She just… she couldn't get over it. She felt guilty, as if she'd killed him herself," he confessed softly. "It got so bad all we did was argue about it for weeks and then months. Then she started to shut me out. Even the fighting would have been better… but when we just stopped talking altogether… I don't even think I was really surprised when she gave me the ring back. She told me she couldn't look at me without being reminded of him, that it wasn't fair to me, and the best thing for both of us was a clean break."

"Oh… oh, Sam," Dean breathed out. "I'm sorry."

He felt a smile tug at his lips, but not a happy one. It was more mirthless, like he wanted to laugh in a bittersweet sort of way.

"The thing is, I would have done anything, said anything to take her guilt away. In the end, it wasn't about me or even being able to stay with her. I just didn't want her to blame herself over something she couldn't even control," he admitted. "It's funny, I never would have seen myself here, living this life, in a million years. My parents and Madison, I felt so damn alone... but now..."

He looked up to meet Dean's eyes, green irises watching him closely.

"I know it would have killed me to leave you," he confessed softly. "Her wanting me to go hurt but… if I'd had to leave you because of this… I know we haven't known each other long. I know it sounds crazy to say this, but I would have left for your sake, but it would have-"

He was cut off by Dean's lips pressing against his. The kiss was to silence him, he could tell, but it was so languid and seductive, Sam couldn't bring himself to care.

"Don't talk like that," the man whispered softly as he climbed on top of him, settling down on Sam's hips. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I know that now. I just-"

"No," the older man said firmly. "I wouldn't have left you, and I wouldn't have let you leave me either. You need me."

Sam wasn't sure what to say to that. Dean's words kind of confused him, but maybe that had more to do with the way the man began to kiss down his neck. The tip of his tongue trailing over his throat, accompanied by sweet lips and sharp teeth nipping at him, it stole the words from his mouth as he felt his temperature begin to rise.

"D-Dean," he hissed out.

"Shh. It's okay," Dean reassured him softly. Fingers pushed underneath of Sam's shirt, sure of their destination and without an ounce of shame or hesitation. They moved over his taunt skin in a way that made it feel like fire itself was licking at him, and it was starting to feel like the room was spinning. Sam could only swallow deeply as he felt his nipples rubbed at before being gently pinched until they began to harden under the other man's touch. "When's the last time someone took care of you? Has anyone ever really taken care of you, Sammy?"

Sam couldn't answer, and not just because of the way the touches were stealing his breath away. Honestly, he wasn't sure. He couldn't remember anyone handling him the way Dean did, not so gentle and so lovingly, to build a flame inside of him like this. Passion so hot it drove him insane, yeah. That he'd felt, yet when Dean drug a thumb over his bottom lip, this warm sensation in the middle of his chest, no that was new. It was completion, safety and a sureness that had never been gifted to him before.

"I will not leave, Sam. Never," he promised before kissing him again. He pulled Sam to sit up so he could strip his shirt off, followed by his own. Both their hands moved over each other, needing to explore all of one other, to feel every inch of as the temperature of the room began to rise and their skin became slick from their shared body heat.

He didn't think he would ever be able to get over just how soft his lips were, how plump they felt against his own. Dean kissed with a confidence of a lover who knew he could make all your dreams come true, and Sam wasn't sure if he even had any dreams left, but he would be so willing to trust him with them if he'd had any.

Who knew, maybe it might even inspire new ones.

"Dean… Dean, I… I want..." he gasped out between the attention of Dean's mouth. He couldn't even get a sentence out, too busy getting pampered by his lover's affection.

"What is it, Sammy? Tell me what you want," he purred in his ear before gently tugging at the flesh of his lobe with his teeth that made Sam just want to melt into a puddle right there on the bed. "Tell me what you need."

At first, all that he was able to answer with was a guttural groan. Normally he hated being called Sammy, yet when Dean did it, somehow it made him feel hot in all the best ways. Fire pooled down in his belly, making it really hard to think, especially when Dean pushed him gently back down to the bed and let his mouth explore him properly. It was like lightning shooting straight to his brain as he was licked and kissed all over his chest. The way he was moving down his body so slowly, the teasing, the gentle laps of the tongue over his skin...

It should have been driving him crazy. He should hate it. It wasn't what he was used to at all, not nearly fast enough, and yet he felt so cared for, so loved, that he didn't want to rush this. He wanted to sink into the sensations, to let them completely envelop him until his brain was nothing more than a happy mush of soft smiles and fulfilling orgasms.

"I want you," he sighed out. "All of you."

"I can do that," Dean assured him as he gently hooked his thumbs over the waistband of Sam's pants and slid them down slowly, followed quickly by his underwear and then the rest of Dean's clothing as well. Sam's gaze drug over the sight of him, soft in some places but toned in others and still so attractive that it was more than enough to make his head spin. It felt cliché to wonder just how he'd gotten so lucky to have someone like him, and yet the question formed in his lust-filled brain anyway. He couldn't help it. Dean seemed so perfect, so together, caring and sweet. He was the best anyone could possibly ask for.

He could have anyone that he wanted, and yet he was here with Sam. He was taking care of him, caressing to him in a way that made his body and heart ache out for more. It was almost too good for him, and yet the man felt no shame in being greedy enough for more. He hissed when naked hips pulled against his own, the feeling of their flesh against each other. It was everything he'd dreamed it could be, Dean hot and erect against his own cock, the heat seeping in between them and becoming an inferno. Yet his lover kept his touch gentle and kind, giving instead of taking like Sam always did.

It was like he was being pampered, and he so longed for it. He wanted what Dean could give him, to care for him, to take care of him.

"That's right," Dean whispered as he kissed at his chest, right over Sam's heart. He could probably feel the erratic beat of it, that despite the gentleness of all, he couldn't help but be affected by all of this. Even soft and benign it all was, to be touched like this was so foreign to him that he just couldn't help the way he was reacting. "That's right, Sammy. I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything."

"Dean… please I need you," he gasped out. "I can't… I can't live without you anymore. I don't care how little time we've known each other. I know this is right."

"Shhh," Dean breathed before planting a tender kiss on his lips, his member pressing more firmly against Sam's as he dragged himself over him again and again. "I've got you. You're going to get all that you need, even if you've never known you wanted it before. I'm going to give you everything."

He smiled down at him, the expression somewhere between an angel and a devil. It was a wicked crook of the lips, promising him something dirty and sinful, and yet it lifted him up at the same time as it assured him understanding and compassion as well.

Sam Wesson had no idea if he was about to see Heaven or Hell, but wherever Dean led him to, he knew that's exactly where he wanted to be.

It felt achingly slow as he watched Dean reach for the bedside table, pulling out a small packet of lubrication and foil-wrapped protection. He swallowed deeply as he realized where this had to be going, and he was a little hesitant, but only a little. More and more he was onboard, just had to see where this would lead. He wanted to know the feel of it, the way Dean could push inside and stir him up, how deep he could touch him, to know just what it would be like to be the one no longer in control.

Yet when the cool liquid poured out onto Dean's fingers, he didn't reach for Sam, instead shifting a little so he was resting on his knees above his lover and licked his lips.

"Watch," he ordered softly. "I get so damn hot when you watch me, Sam."

That… that was good to know, but honestly, he didn't think he could tear his eyes away from what he was seeing even if Dean had hated it. He felt like he couldn't breathe as the other man reached behind himself. It was hard to see exactly what was going on since Dean's front was facing him, but as he threw back his head and moaned, Sam's imagination more than supplied what he couldn't make out. Dean rocked himself slowly, like he was dancing to a song only he could hear the music to, and Sam's fingers dug into the sheets, bunching the material in between his fingers to keep himself from reaching out and grabbing him.

He wanted to touch Dean, to yank him forward and just ravage him. He wanted to bend him in half and claim him over and over again, until Dean's throat was rough from screaming for more. He wanted to make him beg and writhe, pinned down to just take everything as Sam used both of them up in the filthy pursuit of fire and sin.

Which is why he had to keep his hands off of him. Because Dean wanted to do this for him, to show him something sweet and kind, and Sam would rather tear his own heart out rather than risk losing out on such sweet sensations no matter what his instincts were telling him to do. They could do this as many times as they wanted to, as many different ways as there were to do this, but this time he just needed to allow them to make love and nothing else.

"Dean," he whispered softly.

"Mmmhmm?" Dean mewled as he worked himself over, lost in the passion but still showing he was listening.

"I don't want to lose you," he confessed softly. "I have so little to offer you right now though. If I-"

"Sam, the only thing I want is to take care of you. That's literally the only thing I care about right now," Dean assured him. "And honestly? I don't think that's going to change any time soon, if ever. I get it. We've only known each other a short time, but you're not the only one who's felt this pull between us."

He gave him a gentle peck on the forehead, and Sam could feel the smile on his lips.

"You don't have to worry about your worth or anything stupid like that. You're what I need, Sam. No matter how damaged, no matter how broken, I'll be there for you," he promised.

It filled him with hope, that maybe it was all true. Maybe his life didn't suck so much anymore. Maybe he finally had something that could really, truly make him happy. Was it selfish to indulge in it? Probably, but he couldn't stop himself from wanting to anyway.

The snap of rubber in the otherwise silent room made him shiver, the idea of what was about to come turning him on more than perhaps everything that had led up to it. Dean's fingers showed their experience as he slipped it onto Sam easily, peeling it down over him. Slippery lube was poured over his cock, twitching for how eager he was, hard enough that it actually flicked a little off and he felt it splatter against his inner thigh, the muscles in his leg taunt and desperate to start moving.

"Oh wow. You must really want it, huh? Relax. It's been a little while since I did this, alright? No sudden movements until I give the go-ahead," he instructed before he even began to sink down onto his partner. Sam growled but nodded his head, knowing he had to be good to really enjoy this and keep it from ending too soon. It was taking every ounce of willpower he had to allow Dean to do this, to not take control and shove him face-first in the pillow while he fucked him like a whore. His patience was rewarded however when the man finally pulled his fingers out with a wet pop and pushed the tip of Sam's cock up against him and began to sink down.

Even slow and gentle, it felt like an explosion erupted in Sam's brain, all of his nerves bursting like fireworks inside of him. He grit his teeth as Dean slipped further and further down, sometimes having to stop to breathe deeply and push himself down a little more.

"Oh fuck… oh Sam… you're… you're the biggest I've ever had," Dean whimpered out. It made Sam's ego swell and he risked movement of his hips, snapping up just a bit to get a bit deeper. He was rewarded with a sudden gasp from Dean and his body trembling over his, his whole frame shaking from the effort to keep going. "Ahhh, ahhh, so… so big. F-fuck."

"Keep going. Dean, please I need more," he begged, the fabric of the sheets tight in his fists. "Please, please, please!"

It was agonizing to wait, the tight hole slick and wet with lube, but still so tight it was nothing like fucking a woman. It was like Sam was a horny teenager again, discovering sex for the first time and just how good but desperate it could make you feel. Not even halfway in, and his member was already being milked, the vice-like heat around him all-consuming and invading his brain with fantasies of lust and sin.

Finally... finally Dean was all the way down on him, Sam's cock buried so deep that his balls were pressed tight against the man's ass. Panting filled the air from both of them, neither of them moving as the sensations enveloped their bodies. Sam was sure Dean was drowning in the same feelings as he was, and it was taking his breath away too. Finally letting go of the poor, abused sheets, he reached out for him and took his hands in his own, entwining their fingers.

"You okay?" he breathed out.

"Yes. Oh, hell yes," Dean assured him with an enthusiastic nod. Slowly, achingly slowly, Dean began to move, pulling back up from Sam's dick before allowing himself to push back down. He squeezed Sam's hands tight and bit his bottom lip, it clear how much effort it was taking him to keep any kind of composure. He did his best not to move so as not to rush Dean, loving how little work was already making Dean look like he was ready to come undone.

Sam was doing that to him, was getting him so turned on and flustered even the slightest movement was making him moan and shiver. He didn't think there was any drug on the planet that could give him a high that good. The red tint to the older man's cheeks, the gentle kiss of skin as he began to get used to the girth and moved faster and more firmly over his flesh, the way sweat was clinging to Dean as he threw his head back and made a guttural moan, it was all so damn beautiful to Sam. The bed creaked rhythmically as he rode him, like a boat out in the ocean being moved by the waves.

But then a broken whimper came from the man, the sound of will shattering as he looked deep into Sam's eyes, desperate and insane need clouding his expression.

"Sammy, please move," he whispered. "Please... fuck me."

It was like glass smashing, the force from which Sam's resolve to let Dean do the work broke. He'd been straining to keep control, to be good for Dean, to not ruin the sweet moment. The second he was asked though, he gave in to give him everything he needed. His hips slammed up so emphatically that Dean was forced up into the air a bit, only to fall back onto Sam with a sharp cry. He didn't stop, pounding the smaller man from underneath of him so fast and hard that his ass barely touched the bed, working himself into a frenzy to give his lover something good enough to serve as a thank you for what he'd been giving Sam this whole time.

Dean for his part seemed to appreciate it, vocal and loud as he rode it out. The sight of him literally bouncing on Sam and the streams of "Yes!" and "Please!" and "HARDER!" only encouraged him to give more, to be more for the other man, to hand him all the pleasure that he could manage. Every scream made him move faster, until he had to push Dean to the bed and onto his stomach to get the angle needed to bury himself into him with the speed they that both desired.

When Sam felt Dean clench he knew what was coming. Man or woman, an orgasm was an orgasm. He didn't slow down, didn't go gentle, allowing himself to keep going even as a scream ripped from Dean and he tensed around Sam in a way that he almost tipped over himself, only keeping the pace through sheer determination until finally Dean quieted down and could only twitch underneath Sam's firm body.

He roared then, literally roared as he emptied himself, the feeling white-hot in his gut. He wished the condom wasn't on, that he could just spill everything into Dean and make him take it, paint him from the inside with his lust, but he knew that he couldn't. There was work in the morning, and it was already getting too late for Dean to have to clean himself that deeply. Next time though, next time he'd give the man all of his devotion, inside and out.

Mine, he thought as he kissed down Dean's shivering back, love swelling up in his heart for him, the man who'd saved him, the man he owed his all too. He only hoped to God that Dean was thinking the same thing about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words can not describe how much I fucking love emotional sex scenes. Seriously, kinks all about, but honest to goodness feels? Yeah, that'll get me every time.


	12. I'd Do Anything for Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, weird little fact. It's been over a month since I updated this. Honestly, it's just been kind of crazy, with the finale and the episodes leading up to it, not to mention I was trying to focus on getting through some plot points on my other ongoing Supernatural fic, Crossroads at the River Styx, an Emma the Amazon lives story. Between that and getting several requests as fix-its and feel-good stories from my readers, I honestly had not realized it had been so long for this one, so I decided before I started on the list of requests I have, I should really pay this some attention. And oof, that finale. Makes me wish for the simplicity of Season 4 again. In any case, sorry for the wait. Here is the next chapter.

The sight of the small gifts and cards on his cubicle's desk dashed any hope that no one at the office knew about his little run-in in the back-alley and subsequent trip to the hospital. Small tokens from candies to cards, a small plant and even a little teddy bear with a heart stitched into its arms with a message to "Get Better Soon" assured him that there wasn't a single person on the entire floor who hadn't heard what had happened. He just stood there, staring at the offending mess and wondering to himself if he grabbed all of it and set fire to the pile, if it that would cause too much commotion.

"Hey, buddy! Survived the seedy underbelly of the city, did you?" Ian asked as he slapped Sam hard on the back. He sighed a bit and wondered if there were pain killers anywhere in the pile because he was sure a headache would be coming on soon enough.

Which sucked, because head pain was something he hadn't been having to deal with since he'd been spending so much time with Dean. It seemed whatever cold he'd been dealing with from before was finally gone, but this place was going to give him the aches and frustration back full force, and with a vengeance to boot.

Great, just great.

"Where did all of this come from?" he asked his coworker.

"Oh, when everyone heard about what happened I think they all wanted to chip in and show their support," the skinny man explained. "Oh look, someone got you a coffee mug."

"Uh huh. It happened on Friday, and it's only Monday. How did it get around so fast?" he asked.

Ian looked around before pulling Sam down enough so he could whisper to him.

"Word is someone from the higher-ups ran out of this place like a bat out of Hell to the hospital for you," he explained softly, and Sam felt his blood go cold.

"Do they know who?" he asked, his words choking in his throat, but Ian shook his head.

"Everyone thinks it was someone from Human Resources or the insurance branch," he assured him before arching an eyebrow at Sam. "But I'm getting it's someone else, maybe a guy in sales and marketing?"

Sam tried not to react to the question, but he felt his face twist in a grimace, more than enough of an answer for something he would very much like to keep secret. Ian, however, didn't smirk or gloat at all, only giving an understanding nod of his head.

"Well, I had a feeling that was the case. Don't worry, my lips are sealed," he assured him before giving him another, gentler, clap on his back. "Good for you though. Do I get an invite to the eventual wedding for setting you up?"

"That's not even legal in this state," Sam snorted out, even as his mind formed images of Dean smiling in a white suit, an idea that he forced himself to chase off. Yeah, no. Their relationship was already moving fast enough and miraculously hadn't imploded yet due to pure luck. Well, luck and apparently Dean having a very strong kink of taking care of his lovers. That didn't mean Sam had any right to actually fantasize about forever like that. There were still a million things that could chase him off, anything from Sam being too clingy to a fight about laundry day.

"I hear the Netherlands made it a thing," Ian pointed out, but at this point he was clearly joking around and Sam only ignored him and sat down at his cubicle, sorting through the various items telling him that his coworkers hoped he would recover soon. He didn't even think he had been that popular, only talking to a few of them, and wondered idly where it had all come from. Maybe he was liked more than he thought? Heck, maybe Ian had gone around trying to spread the word himself in order to get all this crap put down here.

Sam had to suppose that was kind of touching, in a way. Using the evil of gossip for good maybe?

Still, he had to shove most of it aside, though he did allow himself to snack on some of the sugar cookies while he worked. It would be a waste not to, after all. Besides, the sugar would boost his energy through the endless calls he had to take, the answer of telling people to turn off their electronics and then turn them on again not as painful as it usually was due to the treats he could nibble on in between them.

The drudgery of the day passed without much event besides the odd person walking past him during lunch break and giving him some words of comfort. He thanked them and tried not to give anything else to them to gossip over, refusing to explain any kind of details when prodded for them. One girl named Tammy had twirled her hair while asking him softly if he liked the cookies she'd made, and when he'd assured her they were nice, she'd pressed closer and offered to make them again for him any time he liked, confusing him why she was saying such things.

"I'm not really planning on getting hurt again," he told her, to which she'd just stared at him for a second before huffing and walking off as if he'd insulted her.

He didn't get why she'd looked so annoyed until about five minutes later and wanted to smack himself for being so dense. Still, it was otherwise a rather boring day, the highlight being in spending about ten minutes texting Dean during the last bit of his break before getting back to work. Still, he was happy when his Monday was officially over and he rode the elevator down, praying when it stopped at Dean's floor the man in question would get on.

It seemed someone was listening because as the door slipped open, the older man was standing there, looking over a paper before glancing up. A smile formed on his lips when he saw who was riding already and stepped in.

"Hey. Have a good day?" Sam asked as the door closed.

Dean only smiled and cupped the back of his neck, kissing him softly. It was a peck only, chaste and soft, but it made the taller man melt a little, feeling better than all the cards and candies could have done for him.

Speaking of which…

"What's all that?" Dean asked with a hint of a laugh in his question, looking a the plastic bag most of the stuff had been put into. Honestly, Sam was planning on just trashing most of it, having no need for cards and a teddy bear, but he should at least do it at home so he wouldn't look like an ungrateful dick.

"Word got around about my trip to the hospital," he explained as he held up the bag to emphasize just how much of it there was. "I can't leave it all on my desk. It'd get in the way."

"Well, we'll find a place for it at my apartment," Dean said with a shrug.

"Huh?" Sam asked, feeling confused. "I'm coming back to your place again?"

The look he received almost felt like he was being silently accused of being stupid for even asking. Apparently Dean had assumed that was the case, and Sam himself had figured now that the weekend was over he should be heading back to his own home.

"You don't want to go back to that place, do you?" Dean asked.

"Well, my stuff is there," he pointed out.

"We can pick up more of your clothes if you want to," Dean stated. "You're not staying there though."

That had sounded a little controlling, like Sam wasn't even part of that decision, but he didn't point that out. It's not like Dean was saying that to try and keep him under his thumb. It was genuine worry, and he did get that, but the solution of him hiding away from his apartment for the rest of forever was just not realistic.

"Dean, I get the fact that you're concerned about me," he said with a little sigh. "I am, but I'm just going to end up crowding you if I stick around much longer."

Dean arched an eyebrow at him, and Sam felt himself flush a little. That did sound kind of lame now that he said out loud, as if the worry was stupid.

"How long can I even stay with you?" he asked instead. "I have an apartment I'm paying rent on myself, and stuff that would just take up space where you live if I tried to move it over. I mean, I have to go back eventually, don't I?"

"You under contract or you paying month-to-month?" Dean asked, and Sam fidgeted a bit.

"The second," he admitted.

"Okay, well I'm just going to lay this down, I don't want you going back, okay?" Dean explained. "Maybe you're right. Maybe just moving you into my place is moving pretty fast. I'm not going to force it, and it's… well, yeah. It's kind of dumb to jump right into that."

Dean sounded a lot less sure of himself now, and Sam did feel a bit guilty about it, but he couldn't allow himself to back down from the fact he knew he couldn't just jump at Dean full force. It would be so great to just allow the man to try to solve all of his problems, to just take him in and take care of him like some lost puppy. That kind of security would be so great, but Sam had been bitten before under that kind of treatment. The last place he'd lived had been under Madison's name, she'd been the one making more money, and when it had ended he'd been the one who'd had to find himself somewhere to go. As clear as it was to both of them that Dean had some urge to act as the white knight and just solve everything, that still put him in a position of power Sam, something he just wasn't willing to risk again, at least not that early into the relationship.

It said how badly losing Madison had hurt him that he was willing to go back to a place where there could be an insane stalker waiting for him than allow Dean to just sweep him off his feet.

Promises of forever during sweet sex were great and romantic, but it wasn't exactly binding. Dean could get tired of him any time and then he'd be out on the street again. He wasn't risking it, as much as his heart assured him that he could trust everything to the other man.

He was too broken to really believe in such easy happy endings anymore.

"Listen, stay with me until the end of the month," Dean suggested. "I'll go to your place again and grab whatever you need, and we'll find you somewhere else to live. Just… don't go back there and risk it, please? I'm worried about you."

Sam would have answered if it weren't for the sound of the door opening again, a couple more people getting onto the elevator to ride it down to the lobby. The silence was awkward, but it at least gave him some time to think.

He'd only been in the apartment for two weeks now. He could find a new place without too much trouble. Of course coming up with first, last and a security deposit in just a couple weeks would be hard, but he had a feeling Dean would insist on giving him what he couldn't make himself in order to assure the move he was insisting on. Sam told himself firmly that he'd make it into a loan instead, so it felt less like sponging off of his boyfriend. For now, he supposed he didn't have to think about it too hard.

It wasn't like it wasn't flattering that Dean was so worried for him, wanted to take care of him. It was touching, and it felt good, but a part of him was also trepidatious because of it. Trusting someone that much also included having to give up a lot of control over his own heart, and he was just not worth that kind of effort.

The thought died as they reached the parking lot, walking out. Dean watched him carefully as the other two people walked away to their own cars. He was clearly waiting for some kind of cue on just what Sam wanted to do, but he honestly didn't have an answer. Was going back to his own place where that strange woman knew he lived be worth it, just to protect his own feelings of unease over something going so well for him? Was risking his own neck really so important?

Would she even be waiting for him? Would she swing by later for some reason? Had bleeding into his mouth been all she'd wanted or was there something else in mind of the woman if she wasn't satisfied with what she'd already done. It's not like he could count on a woman like that to be reasonable and to leave him alone now that she'd gotten to him once.

Was Sam just being stupid and worrying about the wrong thing?

"I need to go and pick up my mail, and some other things," he informed Dean. "We'll go there together and then we can head over to your place when I'm finished, okay?"

"Alright, sounds reasonable," he answered with a nod of his head. "I know I'm probably coming off as kind of-"

"Dean," Sam said to cut him off, taking his hand in his own. "I get it. Really, I do. And it's touching. I just don't…"

He sighed softly and let his shoulders sink just a little bit.

"You're too good to be true, Dean," he admitted. "I want this to be real, so badly I can barely stand it. That scares me, and the fact you say you want the same thing should reassure me, but somehow I just can't believe it's all actually just falling in my lap like this."

He rubbed at the back of his neck, knowing sharing this might be a mistake. His boyfriend was already trying so hard for his sake, and this was an issue Dean could not fix no matter how hard he tried. In fact, him trying so hard was actually part of the problem. How could things feel so right and yet so wrong at the same time? It's like Sam was expecting it all to go wrong, and the better it got the more he was afraid to lose something so important.

Dean had essentially promised him forever, and while it hadn't felt like a lie… it also hadn't felt true either.

"I'm sorry," he settled on saying when the other man didn't respond. "I don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything like that. I probably sound like a total ass right now, especially after how good you've been to me."

He wished he could recapture that joy that had filled him with his lab results, his need for Dean being allowed to be fulfilled. He'd grabbed and claimed him, had been so sure of their future together that everything else had fallen away. Now doubts he didn't want to have were creeping back up inside of him, and beating them back did not want to seem to work.

"Sam, do you want to come back to my place?" Dean asked him honestly.

"Yeeeeeeah," he said, but the word was drawn out hesitantly. Damn it, he really should have just kept his mouth shut. He'd been fine before. He really needed to stop thinking so hard about all of this. True, maybe going with the flow and putting his faith in Dean might hurt him in the end, but acting like this was surely no better and might even come off as worse.

He coughed into his fist, telling himself to get his head together and be bolder.

"Yes, I do. Hell, I want to be with you all the time," he said, thanking his voice for being able to sound firm and in control. "It's just I don't know if I'm worth-"

"Sam, shut up."

The force of the words stunned him into silence, as well as the hard look on the other man's face.

"That first part is all you need," he continued, grabbing Sam's hand fiercely in his own. "You want to be with me and I want to be with you. Everything else is just extra, and it's not important. We have each other and there doesn't have to be any worries or fears or anything like that. I'm not going to let that woman near you, and I'm not going to go to all this effort just to allow myself to hurt you either. If you're worried about me, that's fine. It'd be stupid to tell you not to worry because I'm sure Madison talked all the time about how strong your relationship was and how much she loved you, but Sam… I am willing to work to prove to you that you can trust in me. You just need to let me do it. So take the rest of that self-doubt and let it go. I'll prove myself to you, but don't ever think you need to be something else for me. It's okay to rely on me, and I'll take however long you need to prove that to you. Doubt me if you have to, but don't you dare doubt yourself."

Sam wanted to believe in those words, he really did. Perhaps in time he'd be able to let go of all the doubt and self-loathing that had built up inside of him. He wanted so badly to be devoted to Dean and Dean alone, to give everything he was to him. The only problem was his everything was so very little. How he could see so much in Sam was beyond him. Then again, that was no doubt the stuff Dean didn't want him to say out loud or even think. He'd really have to work on it.

He leaned in and kissed him, sweet lips meeting his happily. A tongue flicked out and asked silently for more affection, and Dean gave it to him without a second of hesitation. It only lasted a short time, barely even a minute, and yet he allowed himself to take solace in it. It didn't magically fix all of his doubts, didn't make him suddenly believe in Disney happy endings that would promise happily ever after. His heart didn't sour into the sky to proclaim to the whole world how love would set him free, but it was kind and sweet, and that was all he needed for the moment. The rest could come later, hopefully, but this had to be enough for now.

Perhaps it even could be.

"Do you want to go back to you place tonight?" Dean asked him once they'd pulled away from each other, and Sam honestly considered it before he shook his head. No, he really didn't. He felt like he should, but need and want were totally separate things. "Alright. Come on."

He allowed himself to be led back to the car and climb in, resting his head back on the seat as they drove back. It was already dark and the lights of the city were on. It felt both fatalistic and romantic all at once, a feeling that buried itself deeply into his chest. He had to cherish this romance, to already be so terrified of losing it. It felt so strange to care so much about someone he still didn't really know that well, but really, why fight it?

Dean made such sweet promises to him and he wanted to believe in them. He wanted to think there was something inside of him that could be worth such promises. He wanted to show devotion of his own, to give something Dean could cherish just as much.

Was taking care of Sam really all he needed? Did it honestly make him feel so good to hold Sam up and give him something to rely on? Did offering a perfect life on a silver platter give Dean something emotional that he hadn't had before?

It felt so good, and yet so uneven at the same time. He wanted to give something back, something more than what he was now. He wanted to prove to the man that he could do the same things for him, but really they both knew he couldn't. Sam didn't have a nice apartment or money to blow, didn't have a place to keep Dean safe as he offered him all the support he could possibly need.

He wanted to take care of Dean too, but was it even needed?

Sam knew he was thinking in circles. He knew that there was no answer in this loop he was allowing himself to wonder about over and over. Still, he wanted some kind of answer.

Something itched in the back of his mind, something primal and hungry. A deep feeling inside of him that wanted so badly to just grab his lover and pin him down, to worship at his body and raise him up while also claiming him in a way he'd never had experienced before. He wanted to own him but at the same time be owned by him. He didn't mind Dean having power over him, not really.

He just wanted to have power over him too.

Part of him wondered if that was too dark a thought to have, but as he followed Dean back up to his apartment, he sprung on him the second they were inside and grabbed him, shoving him to the door. A surprised yelp was all he was allowed to get out before Sam covered his mouth with his own. Hands were shoved above the shorter man's head, but there was no resistance at all. Even as a firm body pressed against him, all Dean did was lift his legs up and wrap them around Sam's strong frame.

Confidence started to build up in him again, knowing he could offer this, that even if it was the only thing in his favor, it was still something. Tongues and teeth met each other, the kiss heating up before Sam pulled away to bite at a tender throat, marking him without giving a damn the next morning when his lover would no doubt have to hide it.

"You're mine," he hissed, receiving an appreciative groan in response. It was good enough for him, and he allowed himself to get to work, shifting his hips to rub into the other man. Heat pooled between the two of them as a hiss escaped Dean.

Oh the things he could do to him, pin him up against the door and just have him right there. He could take him on the floor, pose him over the counter and make him scream until his throat was raw.

He could almost taste the copper in his mouth, as if he'd bitten his own lip and bled into it. He didn't know why the thought was in his mind, but he was too focused on Dean to even care. The memories of what she had tried to do to him would probably stay with him for a while, but they didn't matter. Sam hadn't been touched by that, not really. Whatever she'd tried to do had failed and he didn't have to worry about any kind of infection in his body.

No, instead he was free to pursue what he wanted, and have it whenever he liked. This was real, this was his, no matter how much he doubted it. If he felt worried about not being enough for Dean, he could just do this for him, give him all the pleasure he could handle until neither of them could move from it.

Clothing was ripped away and flesh met flesh, slick with sweat. Carnal hunger moved their bodies as they tasted and tore, worshiping each other in sexual rituals so euphoric it should have been forbidden. Screams and moans filled the air, promises of eternity falling from their lips that Sam no longer worried about if it felt real or not.

It was lust-filled insanity that felt almost corrupting and yet so pure at the same time. A hunger in Sam built and also felt filled the more he took of Dean, the more he gave to him in turn. His lover begged but also promised to him, taking and giving in equal measure. It felt right and wrong, beautiful and filthy at the same time. That was perfectly fine for him, willing to drown in such feelings until the end of time if it meant having such sinful sweetness.

When they finally found the bed and stumbled to it, they were both exhausted enough to fall asleep almost immediately. Sam dreamed of fiery hunger and tight bodies, of a wrist bleeding that he grabbed and drank deeply from, and he loved every single second of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Certainly hope that this was worth the wait. Poor Sam just can't stop thinking about things, can he? Luckily he's got his talents to fall back on, and everything feels more secure during pillow biting, doesn't it?


	13. But I Won't Do That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, time to get this story back on the road. I have to admit that doing three different Supernatural stories, as well as the one shots, has kind of been draining me. It's been a lot of fun though, so I can't really complain. Plus, this story being a request fic makes it all the more fun, because not only do I get to enjoy working on it, I also get to enjoy the fact I know I'm making someone's day with my posts. So that's nice.
> 
> It makes working on it something to look forward to, that's for sure.

Soft, wet smacks filled the room as early morning daylight filtered in through the half-drawn curtains in Dean's bedroom, answered by a lazy groan. Dean couldn't help but grin at the sound Sam made, a please pitch in the back of his throat as his lover trailed open-mouthed kissed down his neck and to his collarbone.

"Mmm, morning," he moaned out sleepily, stretching in the bed and smiling at Dean. "What time is it?"

"Still early," he admitted. "The alarm isn't going to go off for another half hour. I just happened to wake up early."

"So you decided to molest my neck?" he asked with a deep chuckle.

"Well, seemed nicer than going back to sleep," Dean confessed before gently kissing his neck again.

The past few days had felt like a honeymoon to him, and it seemed almost a shame to have to go in to work. Considering what a workaholic the man was, that was saying something. Still, it already being Thursday morning was allowing the week to really slip by, and he was looking forward to Friday night and the start of their weekend. It was going to be nice to just lay around for a few days, fool around and do whatever they liked.

"Mmm, sleeping in would be really nice," Sam admitted with a yawn. "I know going in at the same time you do is a lot easier, but it's exhausting. How can you keep those hours of your's week after week?"

"It comes with decent benefits," Dean said with a little shrug before falling back to relax a little. "You want to sleep in today? I can leave you some cash for a taxi. No need to head in the same time I do every day."

"Yeah, especially since I think some of the others are starting to get suspicious of me coming in early," Sam said.

"Do you think anyone knows what we're doing?" Dean asked. So far no one had said anything to him. Luckily very few people on his floor that he associated with even paid attention to the tech workers, but he was sure the people who worked with Sam would surely notice that he was always the first person in every day.

"Mmm, well Ian knows but so far he's kept his promise not to say anything," his lover reassured him.

"Ian… Ian," Dean murmured, trying to put a face to the name.

"He was the one with me at the bar the night we met," Sam explained. "Remember?"

"Oh right, kind of skinny guy. Yeah, I remember now. So he knows about us?"

"Kind of hard not to, considering how he was there. As far as I know he hasn't said anything. Actually, he's been bugging me about my dreams the last few days. Ugh, never should have told him anything."

"The dreams about me or..."

Sam quickly shook his head and rolled over on his shoulder to face Dean.

"No, I've been kind of having weird ones ever since the hospital visit. Weird ones, involving ghosts and vampires, stuff like that. It's been kind of strange."

That sounded awfully morbid, and honestly Dean would rather the guy be having naughty dreams about him, but he supposed no one could control their own subconscious. Still, dreaming of that kind of stuff made it sound like he was still thinking too much of dour and dangerous things. It was kind of like he had some sort of weird obsession with death and danger now. Dean had been trying to keep Sam's mind off of what had happened as much as possible and while he didn't seem as skittish and worried as he had been before, it seemed something was still eating at him.

So far neither of them had seen that woman again, which was certainly a good thing. Either she didn't have any idea where Sam was, or she no longer cared. Either option was good to Dean though. He didn't exactly enjoy seeing his lover as a nervous wreck. Sam had been pretty nervous when they'd gone back to his apartment to get his clothes and other things he needed, but without a trace of her he'd breathed a little easier. It seemed he was finally getting the guy to calm down, which was a bonus for him if there ever was one.

He knew Sam had a bit of an independence streak in him. Dean couldn't just snap his fingers and magic all of his problems away. Things just didn't work like that so easily, but he could do his best to ensure his lover was as relaxed as possible. If he had his way, this whole incident would just be forgotten and thought of a bad memory that would no longer matter in a few years.

"I'm going to get up and get ready for work," he said as he climbed out of bed and stretched until his back popped. Too long in an office chair. He really needed to get back to a gym or something before his muscles decided to lock up on him, though Sam had been giving him plenty of exercise lately. "Why don't you sleep in and just come into work at your normal time? Like I said, call a taxi so you can rest up before you have to go in."

"You sure you don't want me to come along?"

"Nah, no reason for you to have to work the same grueling hours I do all the time," he laughed out. "I'll leave you out some breakfast before I go. Just go ahead and get back to sleep."

It didn't seem like he needed any more prompting than that. By the time he was done with his shower and dressed, Sam was snoozing in bed. It was honestly cute how his hair flared out on the pillow while he was sleeping, a really nice look for him. Dean was smart enough to know when he was smitten and there was certainly enough evidence to support it. If he found the guy cute even when he was sleeping and lightly snoring while tangled up in the sheets then there was probably no getting out of these feelings he had for the younger man.

Not that he really wanted to get out of it.

Making breakfast and putting a plate under a tray for Sam like he'd promised to, he left his apartment and headed out. The drive was pleasant enough, still early in the day that there wasn't too much traffic out yet. He was feeling pretty good and even whistling a little when he reached his office, but was confused when he saw that it was already open.

He adjusted his tie nervously when he saw Mr. Adler of all people waiting for him.

Dean liked his boss well enough. He was a friendly guy, not too overbearing and generally encouraging. As long as you were working hard, he didn't have anything bad to say about you. Still, he was the man in charge directly above Dean and that always made him kind of nervous. He liked to think he did a good job at work, certainly worked hard, but you never knew when there was going to be some kind of mistake or a sale deal had gone bust. It especially bothered him that when Mr. Adler smiled at him, it didn't quite reach his eyes like it normally did.

In fact, his usual friendly demeanor was coming off as downright chilly right now.

"Dean, good to see you," the man said, leaning on his desk with his hands crossed over his legs. "Hope you have a minute to talk?"

"Of course, sir," he said as he walked around him to put his bag on his desk. Mr. Adler didn't move or shift at all, and Dean coughed awkwardly before moving back around the furniture in order to face him properly.

"Dean, you've been here only a short while, but what I've seen from you so far has been pretty impressive. You work hard, you're tenacious, and you're goal-oriented, not to mention driven. You know what you're supposed to do and you do it. Believe me, I and the others upstairs appreciate that kind of loyalty to the company, we really do."

Despite all the compliments, Dean was expecting a but in there somewhere.

"But..."

Ah, there was go.

"Honestly, there's something that caught my attention that I just feel I have to ask you about, just to make sure that we're on the same page. You don't mind, do you?"

"Ah, honestly sir, that would depend on what it is that you want to ask me," he admitted, trying to sound as diplomatic as possible. He couldn't help but feel a little nervous though. This really felt like a lead up to something that was going to land him in some kind of trouble.

"Well, the fact of the matter is we've noticed a relationship you seem to be forming with a fellow employee, and frankly it has raised some concern," he stated honestly. "It feels important to get a gauge on the intentions here and see if yours still line up with the company's."

He should have figured they would have noticed. The story of Sam's attack had quickly been spread around the place like wildfire and he himself had rushed out of this place, citing an emergency to his boss. It wasn't hard to put two and two together, but he didn't see how this had anything to do with his job.

"Now honestly, I could care less who you conduct yourself with or how. That isn't really a concern to the boys upstairs," Mr. Adler informed him. "But you have to realize how this looks, only a few weeks after being hired this sort of activity is going on. We need to make sure your focus is in the right place and you're not, shall we say, drifting from your intended position."

It started to make sense why his boss was here, and why he was asking these questions. He supposed it was fair that Mr. Adler would be a bit worried. He was right, Dean had only been recruited in this place a little while ago, and he'd gone and gotten himself involved with a lower level employee almost right off the bat. That was going to look like he was abusing his authority to anyone. Add in the fact it was a relationship between two men probably made it even more awkward for Mr. Adler to have to bring up, no doubt wanting to make sure no one was getting harassed or coerced into anything, while also not throwing out any accusations that would allow Dean to cry out harassment himself and levy a complaint against him.

It was part of the reason Dean didn't make much of a deal about his sexuality. It wasn't something he went out of his way to hide, but he didn't exactly parade it out in the open either.

"Sir, what's going on between Sam and I is completely consensual, I can assure you. He's actually the one who approached me, and we've done our best to keep ourselves completely professional here at the workplace," he stated, even as he thought back on the time that he'd gone down on Sam right in his office.

He almost broke out in a sweat at the look his boss leveled him with, as if he could read Dean's mind and know he was lying. That was pretty ridiculous though. Still, he told himself firmly in his own mind that he was not going to do anything like that in this building ever again, no matter how hot it had been. The last thing he needed was sexual misconduct being on his record if he got fired and had to find work elsewhere.

"If it worries you, you can talk to Mr. Wesson about it," he continued. "I can assure you, he'll tell you the same thing."

Mr. Adler studied him for a long moment before eventually just shaking his head.

"I don't think that will be necessary," he said. "As long as you can focus on what's important while you're working for us, then that's all that really matters. Besides, a happy worker is a hard worker. If this Sam fellow inspires you a bit, there's no real problem here."

It was an odd way to phrase it, but he wasn't about to say that. It seemed he was being let off the hook. While Dean knew for a fact there were no rules against dating inside of the company as long as they weren't in the same department, it didn't mean that things couldn't have been made difficult for him. He wasn't sure how Mr. Adler implied having Sam around to keep him happy would make him work harder, but only because it was just such a weird thing to say. It would have been like mentioning Dean's desires to arrange a retirement plan for his parents, just too personal to really bring up for work. Then again, maybe the entire conversation had just thrown him for a loop.

"Well, now that that's all taken care of, I should let you get to work. You have yourself a good day now, Dean," his boss said as he clapped his hands and rubbed them together. Pushing himself off Dean's desk, he clapped the younger man on the shoulder before walking out. As much as he tried not to, the director couldn't help but wipe at his shoulder once his boss was out of the room, the contact leaving him feeling really funny.

He had to wonder if they had been caught after all. Had someone heard them in his office? That had been a while ago now though. Surely it would have come up before now if there had been some kind of complaint. Either he was being paranoid or someone had noticed something was amiss and they'd been debating on how to handle it. One way or the other, he was going to have to make sure he kept his nose clean for a good while. The last thing he needed was to blow this good job.

* * *

A few floors up, Mr. Adler was approaching his office, the smile he usually wore around the office set into a deep frown. The people around him gave him wide berth and he slammed the door behind him roughly, a clear indicator of his bad mood.

"This is not what was supposed to be happening," he said firmly. He wasn't just talking to himself, someone else in the office with him.

Castiel neither squirmed nor shifted, still as a rock, and yet he could sense the unease about him anyway. Things had been going sideways for a while now, what with Uriel's blatant betrayal of Heaven and Dean Winchester's whining about his role in breaking the first seal. Zachariah didn't spend much time on Earth among humanity but if they all blubbered like that he had to admit he didn't see much point in rescuing any of them.

The angel had been charged with keeping things in order, preparing Dean for the role he was supposed to take in the upcoming battle. Right now, Zachariah wasn't exactly impressed.

"Tell me the little demon whore is out of town," he said to Castiel.

"Yes. I ensured it myself. Now that Sam has been given his demon blood, he shouldn't be suffering any withdrawals for a while now," the angel replied, his voice betraying not a sliver of emotion, steady and unfeeling.

Zachariah didn't buy it for a second, not even a little. He'd seen him begin to develop an attachment to the brothers, Dean most of all. It was leaving room for doubt and uncertainty, which is why Zachariah was down here in the first place. He should be the one giving orders, not down here on this pathetic mudball looking after a bunch of idiot monkeys.

"She should have given it to him and been out of here a good week beforehand," he gritted out between his teeth. It was really hard to pretend Heaven didn't know what was going on with the planned end of the world when Hell's forces were so bad at it. Heaven's Host could have smote all the demons on this planet in a few days if Michael had given the order, but that wasn't their purpose. Hell was only lucky that their leader wanted the apocalypse to happen just as badly as the demons did or otherwise this all would have been over ages ago. "It doesn't matter. At least we're back on schedule. Sandover should be scheduled to start his attacks any day now, and then the Winchesters can hopefully get their act together and realize they're supposed to be hunters."

"Yes."

The older angel looked over at Castiel before sighing and rubbing at his forehead. Honestly, he felt this whole attachment that the angel was experiencing was going to lead to bad places, but Michael had been very clear that he wasn't to be taken off of the case. Why, he really didn't know, but their leader wasn't known for allowing questions. Honestly, he would have rather have put Rachel or Hester on the job instead but it seemed Dean at least listened to Castiel, even if it was begrudgingly. While Zachariah had to be here to supervise, replacing the angel who had rescued the mortal from the pit would have been just starting over at square one.

"If their instincts are worth anything, they'll notice before too long what is going on," he sighed out. "At that point they'll either get their act together or they won't. You'll keep an eye on them just in case. If one of them dies, bring them back, but don't allow yourself to be seen."

Castiel just nodded, but the older angel was not really in the mood for the blind obedience act. Instead, he just waved him off and with a flutter of wings, he was gone. Zachariah just sank into his chair and allowed himself to contemplate things.

He'd meant it when he said he didn't really care about the relationship between Sam and Dean. Brothers or not, physical or not, their relationship was highly codependent and always had been. While the sex was sickening, it was less their relation to each other and the act itself that made his skin crawl. It was dirty and disgusting the way humans bred and created more of them to scurry around on the planet's surface. Each angel had been made in Heaven with a purpose and a proper place in the grand scheme of things, every single one of them created deliberately and specifically for their task. The way the humans made more of themselves seemed so wasteful and outright was crowding the place. Frankly, it was all very pointless and stupid to him.

Still, there were benefits to the path the two Winchesters were taking. There had never been any reservation within him to use their feelings for one another to manipulate events. This just added another layer he could use to get them in the right position for the final showdown. If it provided too much of a distraction when they got their memories of their real lives back then he could just erase what they'd done with each other from their minds.

Yet he couldn't help but feel bothered by it. The plan for Sandover had been simple. Get them here with a new life and set of memories, wait for the ghost to become active and then let the two go to work. It was supposed to light a fire under their asses to remind them that they were still hunters and that this life they lived was something they wanted deep down and would chase no matter how bloody or dangerous it got. Their little romance hadn't been in the billing at all, and yet here they all were.

It just went to show the two idiots could make anything that was supposed to be simple into a complicated mess with enough effort. Either they were really that idiotic or just subconsciously the universe was having fun at his expense. Honestly, he wasn't sure which answer was the worse one. In all the prophecies he'd had to work with and fates of humans he'd had to oversee for all these years, he could just somehow tell that this was going to be the worst headache he'd ever gotten from any mortal.

Still, at least he would have the benefit of watching a few idiot humans get themselves killed to a ghost. If nothing else it would be worth a lark.

The most important thing was that the seals continue to break, and then get Sam into place to do away with Lilith. Now full up on demon blood and no longer in danger of withdrawals, things could at least progress smoothly again. While the whole incest situation was an unforeseen circumstance, it wasn't something that could break the deal. As long as both boys were kept firmly on track the rest of the details didn't really matter that much in the long run.

Lucifer needed to get out of his cage so that Michael could slay him. It would all be over then, and their father would return to them. Zachariah would never admit to being anxious but he would be happy when it was all over. He was more a planner and schemer than a general, and he'd be happy when all the fighting was over and they had their spoils.

Surely God would be happy with the hard work he had put into all of this and a fitting reward would be waiting for him. Until then he knew he had to watch these two boys closely to ensure they didn't blow it for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, things are starting to heat up now with plot developments. As always, Zachariah is a huge dick and I'm sure we all hate him. Still, there's something to be said for such a slimy character.


	14. What is Real?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, it's been so long since I've been able to write anything for this story. Not much to say on specifics, it's just been a very trying time lately. I won't bore you with details.
> 
> I do however have good news. The person I am writing this story for TheBitterSweetBish and I have started a website to talk about, review and rate material in the SPN world. It's small right now, only a few episodes reviewed so far, but we are both very excited about it. After brushing up on the rules on Ao3 to ensure I can link it here (it's a site that's completely free to browse and we're not selling a thing so this should be okay by the rules) I'm happy to share it.
> 
> https://www.theroadinreview.com/
> 
> That all being said, on to the story.

To say the last few days had been a bit tense would be fair, despite Sam's best attempt to avoid such troubles. When Dean had told him about the little conversation with his boss, it had been clear any kind of shows of affection between the two at work were now off the table. Sam had to admit it really sucked but he could understand the need for such caution. Jumping each other where they earned their pay wasn't the best idea in the first place, though his lover seemed pretty paranoid over if they'd already been caught or not. He'd resolved to leave his window blinds open at all times from now on, and they were no longer allowed to have lunch together to avoid being tempted.

Sam himself was feeling on edge himself. He'd forced himself to confront his apartment despite knowing Dean would have a fit about it if he'd found out. Something was just drawing him there, to face it down. When the weekend had hit he'd told his lover he was going out for a run, but he was too busy to come along since he'd had a new work project he had to start focusing on. He'd actually been counting on Dean being too busy as a chance to slip away, only promising he'd be back in an hour or two and borrowed the car.

There wasn't any foreboding air about the place as he looked up at the building, no flashes of lightning or anything like that. In fact, it was actually a pretty nice day, warm and sunny out. There was a pit in his stomach as he walked around to the alleyway and let his gaze fall to the ground where he'd been jumped but there was nothing there to threaten him now. It took a moment for him to walk up to the spot where it had happened, scrapping his foot along the ground as if he was hoping to find something, but there was no trace. No drops of blood, no anything to show she'd really been here. It had been very real though, he knew that for sure.

The trip upstairs to his apartment was just as anticlimactic. There was no one waiting for him, no sense of danger. It all felt normal, like he could fall into his bed and just pretend it all had been a huge nightmare. It's not like he didn't have plenty of those already, strange dreams of monsters and blood… and Dean.

Really, Dean was the only good example of about anything going on in his head right now, or his entire life if he were perfectly honest. The man was nice to him but a bit on the authoritative side. He knew it was out of concern and he kind of liked it but also kind of didn't. He knew the man would freak out if he found out where Sam was, and while it was comforting to have someone care about him so much, it also took a bit of agency away from him concerning his own life.

He sat down on the bed with a groan, wondering if he was looking a gift horse in the mouth. His lover was good to him, seemed to like the fast pace that their relationship was taking, or at least had been before he'd been talked to by Mr. Adler. Sam shouldn't act out and risk rocking the boat even further or it would capsize on him. He knew for sure he didn't want to lose Dean or what they had together before he even had a chance to learn what it could fully grow into.

There was so much good about him already, which was amazing considering Sam was still getting to know him. Those eyes were so expressive and soulful, the stubble on his chin that scratched in a way he'd never known could feel so good as they kissed, and that mouth that quirked up in such an amazing way when he smiled. God, that smile that made Sam feel weak in the knees, especially when it was something he'd gone and done to make Dean so happy. Knowing he could earn a look like that from someone despite how badly he'd screwed up before… it was like heaven.

It was a little too easy to imagine his face, even in his pathetic little apartment that perfectly showed his pathetic little life. Even just casually thinking about him lit a fire up inside of him, a wave of desire and belonging. He could remember himself in the shower before this had all started proper, touching himself as it felt like his whole body and soul ached for the other man. He swallowed thickly at the memory, his hand traveling down to his zipper before he could even think to stop.

Sam clearly didn't have enough self control, but since when had that been in question? Obviously he didn't because he was doing very, very stupid things right now. If he were smart, he would have gone back to Dean and not hanging around in this dump. If he were smart he wouldn't be unzipping his pants as he fumbled with the material like a teenage boy. He'd have just left this place and not bother to return, ignore the way he was heating up as he palmed himself over. If he had any kind of common decency at all, he would not be fantasizing about Dean, even as he'd lied about going for a run just to confront what had happened to him alone.

Something had to be wrong with him to be doing this. Maybe it was the sudden increased time with his love now that he was living with him. With his old life he'd always had Madison to come home to and they'd spent so much time together, and he was getting used to that feeling again with Dean. It was too easy to fantasize about the man higher on the cooperate ladder, leading Sam to play with himself as he groaned and bucked his hips to the touch. Now, spending any time away from him didn't seem right, getting his body and head all warm and fuzzy just thinking about him even a little. It was like being around someone who cared so much about him all day was just too much for him to handle. His mind wanted to naughty and dirty places yes, but they were also comforting in a way that made him ache even in his almost sinful actions.

But when he was done, he didn't feel fulfilled. He felt empty and alone, and the fact that he didn't belong in this awful apartment by himself only bore down on him as he wondered why he'd even gone there in the first place.

Dean Smith was a guy just about anyone would kill to be with, and he knew deep down how lucky he was to have him. Sam didn't belong here, well maybe he did, but Dean didn't want him here and he didn't want to really be here either. He had a place to really belong and here he was off chasing shadows and risking his own happiness like an idiot. Screw whatever closure he needed from this place. If all he was going to do was just sit around and want his lover, then he'd go back to where he should be in the first place.

It probably confused Dean when Sam got home how he grabbed him away from his paperwork and kissed him silly before begging in a guttural tone to be fucked right there on the floor, but for as shocked as he'd looked, he still did exactly as Sam asked.

* * *

Sadly the rise in the good mood didn't last, or really it couldn't. The start of the workweek had felt normal, the calls, the deadening feel of everything being so dull and boring it wanted to kill Sam slowly on the inside, and of course talking with Ian. The gossip didn't really stop and the guy was happy to hear about Dean, though Sam mostly kept him occupied by discussing his dreams. His coworker found his imagination to be pretty wild and therefore funny, but it kept the details out of his sex life so that was good enough really.

Honestly, he felt Ian had enough to worry about with finally getting caught swiping the office supplies anyway, especially when he got an email about going to the HR department.

It had all been painfully normal and boring until he came into work and found out at the same time as everyone else that a fellow IT worker, Paul, had killed himself the night before. He could barely believe it. Okay sure, he remembered the guy being stressed the day before about some files that had gone missing on his computer due to a reboot but that didn't make any sense for this kind of reaction.

Across the room, he caught Dean's eyes. It seemed everyone had come to take a look, including the employees upstairs. He could see why though, this all felt really shocking. He wanted to go over to him, to say something, but he had really no idea what. This all was just so surreal, like it couldn't actually be happening. Even the reaction everyone was giving to it didn't seem like it would fit in with reality.

How could everyone just go back to work afterward as if nothing had even happened? Okay, yeah a few people looked a bit grossed out but… shouldn't the building be closed down? Shouldn't there be some kind of mourning or something? None of this made any kind of sense, especially since he knew Paul only had a couple weeks left of this place until he was free. He had been about to retire, full benefits and everything. The computer losing some stuff shouldn't have been enough to jeopardize that, so why had he taken such extreme measures?

Sadly, Ian didn't seem to want to talk about it, which surprised Sam as he was pretty much the main gossip to this place. He really had no idea who else to bounce this idea off of that something was wrong, and strangely enough his coworker being so frazzled about his own work and being in a uniform of all things was the strangest of all. He had no time to really question him on it though since the man got an email to head upstairs and he quickly scurried off.

And that's when all hell broke loose.

The news of a second suicide quickly made its way down to his floor and the second Sam heard it was Ian who had done it, he rushed up the stairs to find the bathroom he had apparently offed himself in. He was shocked to see Dean just outside and talking to security, explaining what had happened. He forced himself to wait in the crowd, to not go to him a second time, at least until the people dispersed and the body was collected. Watching the police take away the body of someone who… well, Sam wasn't sure he had considered Ian a true friend, more an acquaintance but a nice enough guy. It all felt so strange and off, like any second he'd wake up and this would just be another of his dreams.

It wasn't a dream though, not this time. It all was actually happening, no matter how surreal it felt. The second most of the crowd was gone, he rushed to Dean's office and shut the door firmly behind him.

"Hey," he said softly. "You okay?"

The man in question ran a hand over his face and shook his head.

"I just saw a guy stab himself with a pencil," he admitted. "A freaking pencil, right into his neck, over a stupid form. It would have taken like five minutes to fix! It wasn't worth that!"

"Hey, hey. Calm down," Sam said as he crossed over the office and put his hands on his shoulders. "It's okay. I'm here."

Dean snorted a bit.

"I'm not a kid, Sam. You don't have to treat me like one," he muttered but didn't pull away either. "I think that's the first time I've been that close to a dead body before."

"You make a habit of hanging around dead bodies?"

"You know what I mean," Dean replied before sighing. "Something like that is just… it messes with you. I even thought I saw..."

"What?" Sam asked.

"Nothing. It doesn't matter," he answered, clearly wanting to avoid saying anything, but when Sam refused to stop looking at him questioningly, he ended up caving. "For a minute I thought I saw someone else in the bathroom mirror, this old guy. Like crazy old and all dusty. When I turned around though, there was no one there. Just me and Ian… Shit, that guy was your friend, wasn't he?"

"Uh… yeah, kind of," he said. It didn't feel right to dismiss him that easily but if he had to be honest the two hadn't been exactly super close. Weird too, because it felt like he should feel something more than what he was over his demise. Maybe with the stalker and all of that, he was just past his point of stress and couldn't care that much any longer. "You said you saw an old man?"

"Yeah, but no one was actually there."

That felt off to Sam, more than it should have. Anyone else would think it was a trick of the mind brought on by the trauma, but that explanation just felt wrong despite being so logical. Was this really something that could be so easily dismissed?

"Are you sure there wasn't really someone there?" he asked.

"Yeah, like I said, when I turned around he was gone."

"No, I get that. But what if he just was gone that fast? What if you really did see someone there?"

Dean looked at him hard, as if he wanted to ask him if he'd gone crazy. To be perfectly fair, Sam had to wonder the same thing himself. People just didn't vanish that fast… but… what if they did?

"Do you believe in ghosts?" he asked suddenly. "I know that sounds nuts but do you?"

"Are you saying you think a ghost was in there?" he asked with a scoff before starting to look unsure himself. "I mean, I've never really thought about it before. Is this like in your dreams where you think of weird shit?"

"My dreams aren't… Okay, maybe a bit. This just seems all wrong to me. Paul had less than a month before he was out of here, and he was wasting that time away looking at porn on his computer. Then he just out of nowhere becomes this hard worker that that suddenly wants to kill himself? It was the same with Ian. Trust me, he wasn't the type to wear a uniform much less care about company time enough to feel it was worth his life, not before today anyway."

"You're right," Dean admitted.

"I am? Oh, good. I was starting to think I was going nuts and getting paranoid."

"If you are then we both are," he stated. "This all is wrong somehow, and I can't even explain why. It's like there's this feeling in my gut..."

"Instinct?" Sam asked him, to which Dean nodded his head.

"So what are we supposed to do about this?" he asked. "It's not like I can go to any of the heads of the company and tell them there might be something going on concerning potential ghost deaths."

"They both received an email telling them to go to HR in room 1444," Sam supplied. Maybe that was a clue of some kind.

"Wait, 1444?" he asked. "You're sure that's where they were told to go?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Because that's on the fourteenth floor. HR is on the seventh," he explained.

Sam felt his stomach plummet, even though it only proved something fishy was going on around here. Oddly enough, as much as he felt like he knew deep down what was going on, for some reason he couldn't identify he almost wanted to be wrong.

"We can start there," he suggested, knowing despite the tangles his gut that he had to see this through. "That is, if you even want to get involved in all of this?"

Dean didn't even say anything and just grabbed his jacket.

"Oh no, we are getting all kinds of involved in this," he stated in determination.

The enthusiasm was surprising but welcome. As confused as he was about all of this, it was nice to see Dean so sure. It made everything feel a whole lot more like it could all work out, and maybe if it did then things would settle in his own mind some.

Of course, coming to the room and finding himself fighting off a ghost with Dean's help certainly proved nerve-wracking, but he didn't have time to think about it. Getting out alive was the most important thing to him, both him, Dean and the other worker that had stumbled in there without knowing what was going on. It had been a miracle to get out of there without getting hurt, though it did leave a very big question on just what they were supposed to do now. Leaving the place with the dangerous ghost was clearly step one, but after getting back to the apartment it was unclear what step two was even supposed to be for them.

Nothing felt quite real right now, and yet at the same time it felt achingly true. The sensation was uncomfortable and nauseating, more so even then having to deal with dead bodies. Even as they talked and figured it would be best to try and research their next steps, Sam just found himself excusing himself from the room instead.

"I think I need a minute to just think this all over," he informed Dean softly.

"Sure. I'll get started, you take all the time you need," his lover assured him before clapping him on the shoulder and getting to it, turning on his computer to start trying to find anything he could that would help. Sam knew he should do the same thing but it didn't seem right just yet. His head felt foggy and weird, and he needed something to clear it out, something to assure him this was all actually happening and he wasn't just having insane dreams again.

Going into the bedroom for privacy, he didn't know why he pulled out his cell phone, even as he flipped it open and his thumb traced slowly over the buttons without pushing anything. A number came to mind, long since erased from his contacts but still memorized. In all reality it didn't make sense. There was nothing Madison could do about this kind of situation. If he told her even a tenth of what had been happening to him lately, much less today, she'd just call him crazy and hang up. Still, he needed to for some reason. He needed something, anything to prove to him that this was all real, that his life was real.

He needed something to tell him he was real.

It took three times dialing and getting a recorded voice telling him he was in contact with an animal hospital, asking him to stay on the line before someone could help him, did he give up and decided to forget about it. He knew the number was right, even as he had dialed it again and again. He remembered in his past punching it more times than he could count and it had always been her voice that answered.

Now he found himself wondering if she ever even really existed.

* * *

The blood on his lips felt warm, sprayed up against his face and into his mouth. Sam's whole body froze as he looked at the gore in the elevator, the body of the security guard that had caught him snooping around now nothing more than chunks of skin, bone and blood. The crimson liquid carried a heat in it that sparked memories of the girl from before, on top of him, bleeding into him. It was more shocking than the person that had just died so violently right in front of him and made him nearly choke as he did his best to keep himself from crumbling under the weight of everything that had happened today.

Ruby. Her name was Ruby.

He had no idea how he knew that or why it had come to him now. His entire world was crashing down around him and he'd probably give up just about anything to make it all stop.

He tried not to, but he couldn't stop his tongue from flicking out over his lips, tasting the coppery fluid. It wasn't like hers, not at all. He couldn't put his finger on what was different, but something about it felt empty and lifeless, utterly wrong in every way.

That idea by itself made him want to slap himself out of whatever insane prattling was going on in his brain right now. Of course it felt wrong! It was human blood for goodness sake! Just what was wrong with him?

For about the hundredth time that day he found himself wishing desperately that he could just wake up, that this would all be some imagination of his in his sleep, that none of it was real and he was just in Dean's bed unconscious.

It wasn't to be though. All of this was really happening and he didn't know why.

Before he could allow himself to freak out too much, his phone rang and he pulled it out, Dean on the other end asking if he was okay. Hell, if he only knew. Sam had a million thoughts run through his head, telling him to confess everything and tell Dean to run for the hills. Clearly he was going crazy, or he was dead and in Hell, or whatever other crazy thing was going on because none of this could be actually happening for real.

Except it was, and just like the blood on his lips, as much as he didn't understand it and a small part of him even hated it, this was a part of him that he couldn't deny.

"I'm gonna have to call you back," he said breathlessly as he wondered just how he was supposed to explain all of this to Dean.

His brain was a mess, but he couldn't function like this. He needed to get himself together. He was going to get killed if he continued on like this.

More importantly, Dean could die like this. He was all alone with a very vengeful spirit that was clearly upping its game. Now wasn't the time to overthink things. Sam had to pull himself together, he had to focus.

He had to save Dean.

The blood was sticky on his skin, and he knew he should try to wipe it away. He should spit it out and find the nearest bathroom to wash it all off and do his best to pretend it was never there in the first place. He should run.

Instead his tongue flashed out again, licking the top of his lip again and he swallowed.

He had a ghost to destroy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore soft Sam, but I fucking love dark Sam.


End file.
